THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS; 


OR, 


PHASES  OF  EYERY-DAY  LIFE 


BY 


EMMA    WELLMONT, 

AUTHOR   OF   "UNCLE   SAM'S   PALACE,"    "HOUSE-KEEPING   AND 
KEEPING   HOUSE,"    ETC.  ETC.  ETC. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  P.  JEWETT  &  COMPANY. 

CLEVELAND,    OHIO: 

JEWETT,  PROCTOR  &  WORTHINGTON. 

1854. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

JOHN    P.   JEWETT    &    CO., 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


Stereotyped    by 
HOI!  ART    t    ROBBINS, 

New  EuglMcd  Tjpe  »ud  Storoutjpe  FouuUr/« 


PS 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PERFECTION    IN   LIVING, 9 

SUDDENLY  RICH, 13 

THE   BEST  ROOMS, 21 

FANCY   WORK, 24 

CHASING   THE  RAINBOW, 30 

TIMIDITY, 33 

THE   HOLIDAY  WALK, 35 

THE   HYDROPATHIST, 38 

THE  WIFE   ON   THE  HOMESTEAD, 40 

A  CHAPTER   ON    CORNS, 43 

PLEASURE-SEEKING, 46 

AN  AGREEABLE   COMPANION, 61 

MONEY, 63 

COMING  EVENTS, 66 

MONDAY  MORNING, 58 

MRS.  PELL'S  EXPERIMENT, 61 

THE  FAST  YOUNG  MAN, 67 

SPEECH-MAKING, 69 

WEALTH  WITH  INDOLENCE, 72 

THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  GLOOMY, 74 

SUNSHINE  AND  CLOUDS, 77 

THE  COUNTRY  IN  WINTER, 78 

1* 


1201551 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PICK 
TUB   FEMALE  FINANCIER, 82 

THE  EXPRESSMAN, 88 

PHASES   IN    MARRIED   LIFE, 91 

"AND   SO   FORTH," 94 

A   FINE    MORNING, 96 

SOILED    GARMENTS, 99 

THE   BROKEN   PROMISES, 100 

MODERN   TALE,  105 

"  BUBBLEISM," 108 

CURIOSITY, 112 

LIFE   IN   THE   COUNTRY, 113 

COMMUTATION 119 

THE   OPPRESSED   SEAMSTRESS, 121 

OUR  BEL, 126 

A  WIDOW'S  EXPERIENCE, 133 

DISCOURAGED  GENIUS, 138 

BUMMER  BOARDING, 139 

A  "  GENUINE  WIDOWER," 145 

THAT  VACANCY, 154 

"SELLING  OFF  AT  COST," 157 

THE  UNFINISHED  PICTURE, 165 

MARRYING  TOO  LATE, 167 

THE  HENPECKED  HUSBAND, 175 

CLUB-HOUSES, 179 

THE  TRAITOR'S  END 181 

LITTLE  PITCHERS  WITH  GREAT  EARS, 187 

THE  PASS-BOOK, 189 

POSTERITY, 195 

THE  FARM  NEAR  THE  DEPOT, 197 

A  TRYING  CASE, 205 

THE  EARLY  SPRING  FLOWERS 208 

LIGHT  AND  SHADE 212 


CONTENTS.  VII 

FAGS 

INQUISITIVE  CHILDREN, 218 

WHAT  WILL  PEOPLE  SAT  ? 223 

MRS.  BUTTERS'  BABY, 226 

LIFE, 233 

A  DARE  PHASE  IX  LIFE, 234 

A  FACETIOUS  SKETCH 237 

HAPPINESS  EQUALIZED, 240 

SWEET  SIXTEEN  ;  OR,  THE  FIRST  FLIRTATION, 244 

THE  MAY-D.AY  FESTIVAL, 250 

MR.  TANGLE'S  EXPERIMENT, 254 

FASHIONABLE  BOARDING, 256 

A  WEEK  AT  THE  FARM-HOUSE, 259 

WORDS  OF  KINDNESS, 264 

EVADING  A  DUN, 270 

A  PLEA  FOR  DOG-DAYS, 273 

IN  A  DILEMMA, 278 

MALE  COQUETRY, 280 

LOVE  OF  FASHION, 284 

CHANGING  PLACES, 286 

THE  AUDIENCE  AND  THE  LECTURER, 289 

MODERNIZING, 293 

THE  FIRST  BEREAVEMENT, 296 

PROPERTY, 302 

THE  CAST-OUT  EVERGREEN, 395 

THE  WELL-ORDERED  HOUSE, 310 

IN  A  WORRY, 316 

THE  FADED  LEAF, 318 


SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS. 


PERFECTION  IN  LIVING. 

How  few  understand  the  art  of  living  happily  !  Is  it 
not  strange,  when  so  many  have  lived  before  us,  and  we 
might  derive  the  advantage  of  their  experience,  that,  after 
all,  we  so  fail  of  attaining  the  desirable  end  ?  We  begin 
wrong,  and  then  keep  on  wrong,  and,  of  course,  are 
doomed  to  end  wrong.  Take,  for  example,  a  newly-mar 
ried  pair.  The  inquiry  is  not  often  "  what  can  we  afford, 
and  how  can  we  best  consistently  live  ?"  —  but,  "what 
can  I  induce  my  father  to  give  me  1  —  how  handsome  an 
outfit  can  I  possibly  obtain  1 "  The  Brussels  carpets  and 
long  mirrors,  in  the  houses  of  the  affluent,  did  not  always 
hang  there.  There  was  a  tedious  process  of  accumulation 
before  sufficient  was  earned  to  justify  the  outlay.  The 
father,  ten  chances  to  one,  sailed  to  foreign  lands,  encount 
ered  storms  and  shipwreck,  but,  not  disheartened,  still 
pursued  his  employment,  and  at  length  became  a  success 
ful  owner,  and  retired  from  his  exposed  condition  upon 
the  waves.  But  he  has  a  daughter.  She  never  knew  of 
her  mother's  anxieties  lest  master  and  cargo  should  be 


10  SUBSTANCE  AND    SHADOWS. 

lost ;  for  she  was  too  young  to  be  distressed  with  imagin 
ary  troubles.  She  is  to  be  married;  and  this  same 
hard-earned  money  is  freely  expended,  and  the  new  man 
sion  outvies  the  old  one ;  but,  alas !  we  fear  the  experi 
ence  of  that  toiling  pair  is  wanting  to  learn  the  art  of 
living  rightly.  The  idea  that  "  father  is  rich,  and  I  shall 
never  want,"  has  been  the  ruin  of  thousands. 

There,  too,  is  the  opulent  merchant.  Was  he  always 
so  1  Some  may  tell  you  he  once  traded  in  a  very  small 
way ;  but  they  remember,  too,  how  carefully  he  kept  an 
eye  to  his  accounts,  that  expenditures  should  not  exceed 
the  income.  Is  the  son  pursuing  the  same  course? 
Where  he  rides,  the  father  walked.  When  the  father 
began  life,  the  evenings  were  not  spent  at  the  theatres 
nor  amusements ;  but  in  a  snug  corner,  with  a  little  square 
table  before  a  small  fire,  he  used  to  "figure  up"  how 
much  he  could  afford  to  purchase  for  the  enlargement  of 
his  stock ;  and  then  his  prudent  wife  was  willing  to  dis 
pense  with  all  useless  finery.  How  is  it  now  ?  He  is 
worth  two  hundred  thousand !  Does  he  enjoy  more  at 
the  marble  table,  when  the  son  is  vexing  him  to  know  if 
he  may  not  go  abroad,  as  an  apology  for  doing  nothing, 
than  at  that  little  square  one,  where  only  one  candle  shone 
upon  his  Day-Book  and  Ledger?  He  will  tell  you, 
"  But  Frank  must  be  indulged ;"  and  the  money  is 
launched  out  which  will  unfit  him  for  a  busy,  industri 
ous,  happy  life.  Travelling  merely  to  be  idle,  never 
benefited  anybody ;  for  they  are  too  indolent  to  improve. 

But  what  comes  of  all  this  living  ?  Certainly  there  is 
little  happiness ;  for,  at  present,  a  busy  round  of  exciting 
pleasure  is  counted  as  the  perfection  of  living. 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  11 

Now,  satiety  follows  all  this  effort  to  be  happy; 
whereas  a  steady,  industrious  person,  who  lives  with  fore 
thought,  who  really  desires  to  improve,  does  not  do  so. 

Things  that  are  had  for  the  mere  asking  are  not 
prized  like  those  for  which  we  have  toiled.  It  is  a  mis 
erable  notion  that  we  must  shield  children  from  knowing 
how  to  labor  —  ay,  and  from  actual  labor.  They  never 
can  know  happiness ;  they  never  will  live  well. 

When  shall  we  learn  that  it  is  not  what  is  without, 
but  what  is  within,  that  gives  the  true  perfection  of  liv 
ing  ?  I  believe  the  trouble  lies  in  not  doing,  as  well  as 
in  overdoing.  When  I  see  people  so  vexed  because  they 
cannot  procure  some  one  to  do  for  them  what  they  would 
feel  all  the  better  for  doing  themselves,  my  envy  for  the 
wealth  which  occasions  the  torment,  ceases.  The  fret- 
fulness  of  the  present  day  is  much  on  the  increase,  simply 
because  we  are  so  dependent  on  others.  The  multiplica 
tion  of  luxuries  makes  the  multiplication  of  servants. 
We  overload  our  tables,  and  at  the  same  time  have  a  dis 
taste  for  viands  which  no  toil  has  sweetened.  The  poor 
body  is  put  under  "  electric  shocks,"  because  our  nerves 
are  too  weak  to  oversee  our  cook  or  direct  our  chamber 
maid. 

We  are  forced  to  ride  where  we  should  walk,  and  then 
complain  of  the  inattention  of  the  coachman,  and  scold 
him  about  his  carelessness.  "Getting  one's  living"  is 
considered  vulgar;  and,  as  no  passport  to  good  society  is 
furnished  people  who  work,  is  it  any  wonder  so  many  are 
striving  to  be  gentlemen  and  ladies  ?  This  causes  the 
clerk  to  lay  out  all  his  salary  (it  is  well  if  he  does  not 
more),  in  imitation  of  the  rich  man's  son,  who  dresses  no 


12  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

better  than  he;  and  the  little  shop-girl  foregoes  many 
comforts,  that  she  may  secure  a  silk  dress  like  a  custom 
er's  1  With  these  perverted  views,  where  are  we  to  end  ? 
Who  will  make  the  next  generation  ?  Let  us  learn  to  be 
as  independent  as  possible  of  others.  Let  us  ask,  with 
a  manly  courage,  can  I  afford  to  do  thus  and  so  1  Will 
it  dignify  my  character  to  yield  to  this  indulgence  ?  Shall 
I  gain  the  respect  of  the  truly  worthy  by  these  false 
shows?  Give  a  bold,  thoughtful,  attention  to  these 
things,  and  be  guided  by  the  answer ;  for  the  perfection 
of  living  is  in  beginning  to  live  rightly. 


SUDDENLY  III  C  IT . 

Mu.  ATHOL  wont  to  bed  a  poor  man.  and  awoke  the 
next  morning  worth  some  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  ! 
Before  the  accession  of  wealth,  he  was  a  toiling  mafi  for 
a  dependent  family ;  yet  he  always  acquired  sufficient,  by 
his  industry,  to  keep  his  children  in  good  condition,  and 
his  wife  a  light-hearted  woman ;  besides  having  an  agree 
able  intercourse  with  neighbors  in  the  same  block,  under 
similar  circumstances.  With  a  free  and  easy  heart,  every 
Saturday  night  Athol  settled  with  the  world,  and  squared 
all  his  accounts ;  so  he  went  to  church  with  a  feeling  of 
independence  as  long  as  his  health  should  be  continued 
him.  To  be  sure,  riches  in  the  prospective  looked  invit 
ing  to  this  worthy  couple.  They  used  to  wish  for  them  to 
enable  them  to  highly  educate  their  children,  to  befriend 
the  poor  widow  in  the  next  street,  and,  as  they  needed. 
to  bestow  a  pittance  upon  their  aged  parents  ;  but  they 
never  coveted  luxurious  fare,  showy  dress,  or  a  splendid 
equipage  ;  perhaps  because  they  were  so  unattainable 
they  left  no  room  for  such  wishes. 

But  we  said  John  Athol  awoke  one  morning  and  found 
himself  a  rich  man.  Being  descended  of  English  pa 
rents,  it  appeared,  by  an  advertisement  in  the  evening 
paper,  "  that  the  heirs  of  Potor  Athol  could  learn  some- 


14  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

thing  greatly  to  their  advantage  by  calling  upon  Smich 
&  Co/'  That  intelligence  was  neither  more  nor  less 
than  that  an  aged  uncle  —  a  rich,  miserly  man,  who  had 
never  married  —  had  recently  died,  and  left  a  will,  be 
queathing  to  sundry  unknown  relatives  in  America,  the 
heirs  of  his  brother  Peter,  the  whole  of  his  estate,  after 
defraying  his  funeral  expenses,  and  giving  an  annuity  to 
his  trusty  servant,  Jude. 

The  estate  could  not  be  exactly  appraised ;  it  was 
thought  that  it  could  not  fall  short  of  as  many  English 
pounds  as  in  our  currency  would  amount  to  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars ;  and  John  Athol,  a  laboring  man,  was 
the  only  heir  to  all  this  property  ! 

The  curious  sensations  which  this  event  awakened  were 
worthy  of  a  graphic  sketcher.  The  postman  handed 
honest  John  the  letter  just  as  he  awoke  at  early  dawn. 
His  behavior  was  not  unlike  the  wild  excess  of  joy 
which  a  lunatic  would  manifest  on  some  special  breaking 
out  of  sunshine  in  his  heart.  He  read  the  letter  first  to 
his  wife.  Her  exclamation  was  characteristic  of  such 
a  woman : 

"  Well,  John,  we  shall  not  be  obliged  to  work  any 
more,  and  can  dress  ourselves  as  well  as  the  best  of 
'em." 

"  Yes,"  said  John  ;  "  and  we  can  have  a  new  house, 
and  keep  a  carriage  if  we  like,  and  have  our  servants, 
and  eat  all  the  luxuries  in  the  market.  Turkeys  and 
plum-puddings  will  make  our  daily  dinners,  instead  of 
soup  and  mutton  broth,  and  cheap  vegetables  And 
besides,  we  can  travel  all  over  the  world.  How  kind  it 
was  in  uncle  Peter  thus  to  remember  us  !  We  must  pay 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  15 

our  respects  to  his  burial-place,  and  this,  of  course,  will 
carry  us  abroad.  But  let  us  wake  the  children,  and  tell 
them  of  our  good  luck." 

Peter,  Nancy,  Susy  and  Tommy,  were  all  old  enough 
to  know  what  money  could  do  for  them,  and  such  a  merry 
household  as  the  news  created  was  never  before  in  John 
Athol's  premises.  Every  one  of  them  immediately  pro 
ceeded  to  tell  what  they  could  now  purchase,  and  how 
happy  it  would  make  them. 

"  Now,"  said  Susy,  "we  must  not  associate  with  the 
poor  people  around  us.  Having  wealth,  gives  us  a  new 
standing  in  society,  and  when  we  move  we  will  bestow 
some  little  presents  upon  the  poor  about  us,  just  to  keep 
them  in  good  favor,  and  then  we  will  leave  them  for 
ever." 

"  That 's  a  lucky  thought,"  replied  the  mother ;  "  but 
would  it  not  be  best  to  conceal  for  the  present  our  great 
wealth,  until  we  can  get  some  plans  matured  ?  " 

They  all  thought  so,  and  agreed  to  keep  the  matter 
close. 

There  was  a  heavy  rap  at  the  door.  A  whole  company 
of  the  neighbors  were  standing  without  to  welcome  and 
congratulate  honest  John  upon  his  good  fortune.  Not  a 
few,  however,  hinted  that  "  they  hoped  this  sudden  rise 
in  the  world  would  not  turn  their  heads ;  "  and  an  old 
farmer  in  the  neighborhood  suggested  "it  was  always 
well  to  ask  the  Lord's  blessing,  that  we  be  not  led  astray 
by  the  snares  thus  thrown  in  our  way."  Honest  John 
Aanked  him,  but  we  fear  forgot  to  put  up  the  petition. 

Our  friends  will  notice  that  what  this  worthy  couple 
coveted  riches  for,  before  they  came,  had  never  been 


16  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

mentioned  by  them  since,  namely,  the  education  of  their 
children,  helping  the  poor,  and  giving  a  lift  to  the  aged 
parents.  Susy,  to  be  sure,  had  spoken  of  having  a  music- 
master,  and  buying  a  harp,  because  pianos  were  so  com 
mon  ;  and  Peter  said  he  should  like  to  go  through  col 
lege,  if  he  could  do  so  and  not  study.  All  seemed  to 
have  wishes  very  different  from  their  former  ones.  Tho 
news  ran  like  telegraphic  despatches,  that  John  Athol  \v;is 
a  millionaire;  gathering  a  growing  sum  in  the  mouth  of 
each  one  who  heralded  it.  The  Athol  family  were 
nearly  insane. 

Never  were  people  before  in  such  a  dilomma  !  They 
began  to  be  far  more  unhappy  than  ever  before,  and  when 
the  steamer  brought  a  remittance  of  several  thousands  in 
specie,  it  was,  on  the  whole,  the  most  disquieted  day  the 
family  had  ever  known.  Stepping  out  from  daily  em 
ployment,  and  looking  upon  such  a  store  of  uncounted 
gold,  and  then  feeling  such  a  restless  desire  to  appropri 
ate  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  themselves  happy, 
was  anything  but  agreeable  to  lookers-on.  Singular  as 
it  may  appear,  they  began  to  be  selfish  in  the  very  be 
ginning  ;  or  rather  they  were  so  contracted  they  had  no 
regard  to  supply  anybody's  wants  but  their  own  ;  and 
herein  lay  the  secret  of  feeling  such  disquietude.  In 
deed,  so  entirely  had  the  family  immured  themselves  in 
consultations  at  home,  that  they  were  not  regretted,  as 
they  might  have  been,  when  they  removed  from  their 
cheap,  small  tenement,  to  the  granite  house  upon  the  hill. 
Once,  however,  fairly  settled  in  great  splendor  in  then- 
new  abode,  and  the  name  of  Athol  glittering  showily 
upon  the  door,  inquiries  were  at  once  commenced  among 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  17 

the  neighbors  as  to  who  occupied  the  dwelling ;  and  being 
told  how  they  had  suddenly  risen  from  daily  labor  to  be 
"  somebody,"  the  wealthy  old  aristocrats'  children,  if 
not  their  sires,  turned  up  their  noses  and  laid  a  veto  upon 
their  acquaintance. 

The  first  winter,  therefore,  was  passed  in  most  "in 
glorious  ease."  John  Athol  dressed  in  broadcloth  and 
had  nothing  to  do,  and,  more  than  all,  he  had  no  asso 
ciates  ;  for  his  former  companions  in  toil  he  foolishly 
supposed  would  interfere  with  his  dignity,  by  coming  too 
closely  in  contact  with  him,  and,  to  most  of  the  old  citi 
zens,  John  had  an  ungainly  appearance  which  broadcloth 
could  not  hide.  His  wife,  too,  was  never  so  unhappy 
before.  She  kept  a  great  supply  of  servants,  and  erro 
neously  concluded  she  could  be  thus  relieved  from  all 
labor  herself.  In  a  very  short  time,  however,  she  heard 
disagreement  among  the  servants,  and  saw  waste  and 
destruction  in  larder,  kitchen  and  cellar ;  and  sometimes, 
forgetting  her  wealth,  she  plunged  into  domestic  matters 
as  formerly,  and  somehow  she  confessed  she  felt  much 
better  than  with  her  hands  folded  in  the  drawing-rooms. 
She  supposed  it  was  natural  to  her  to  work,  but  now  she 
hid  her  labors  from  observation,  lest  it  should  not  be  cred 
itable  to  her  station. 

But  the  children  much  more  readily  fell  into  the  new 
mode  of  living.  They  soon  learned  what  it  was  to  be 
"  fashionable ;  "  but  it  evidently  did  not  agree  with  their 
constitutions.  -They  grew  puny,  wasp-waisted,  and  de 
pendent.  The  boys  were  in  a  fair  way  to  be  ruined  ! 
They  aped  the  complete  dandy  —  wore  patent  leather 
boots  or  French  calf-skins,  carried  walking-sticks  with 
2* 


18  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

gold  heads,  wore  broad-brimmed  hats  and  fashionable 
neck-ties  ;  and,  more  than  all,  rose  late  in  the  morning, 
because  they  were  out  so  late  at  nights.  Evidently  John 
Athol's  family  were  depreciating ;  and  before  long  he 
became  aware  of  the  fact,  that  money,  invested  in  mere 
luxuries,  dwarfed  the  better  part  of  human  nature. 

Still  there  came  continual  remittances,  and  Mr.  Athol 
was  now  forced  to  consult  with  a  broker  as  to  investing 
it.  He  bought  stocks  in  newly -formed  companies,  in  the 
expectancy  of  doubling  his  property  ;  but  his  schemes  did 
not  all  work  as  he  had  promised  himself;  still  there  was 
a  large  margin  wherein  he  could  speculate.  It  looked  to 
John  Athol  like  prairie  grass  to  a  northerner,  when  he 
has  just  left  a  stunted  half-crop  at  home.  Yet  gradu 
ally  the  money  seemed  to  elude  his  grasp,  and  he  soou 
found  it  was  quite  as  much  a  task  to  learn  to  keep  it  as 
to  earn  it,  and  far  more  unsatisfactory.  The  children 
grew  clamorous  —  they  grew  dyspeptic,  too,  from  want 
of  exercise,  and  they  grew  impatient  and  unhappy  from 
want  of  employment.  The  girls  were  in  no  fair  way  to 
keep  their  present  position,  for  one  was  flirting  with  a 
profligate  dandy,  and  the  other  was  engaged  to  one  who 
lived  on  ice-creams  and  drank  sarsaparilla  bitters,  if 
nothing  stronger  —  and  he  had  a  character  corresponding 
to  his  diet. 

John  Athol  and  his  wife  began  to  be  alarmed  about 
their  children  more  than  themselves.  They  therefore 
concluded  to  break  up  the  city  establishment  in  the 
spring,  and  begin  a  new  life.  They  concluded  upon  a 
trip  across  the  water,  and  all  the  family  embarked  for 
Europe.  On  the  passage  there  was  a  clergyman,  with 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  19 

whom  they  formed  a  decided  intimacy.  John  told  him 
all  his  former  history.  They  had  serious  conversations 
by  moonlight  upon  the  deck  of  the  vessel,  and  the  rich 
man  seemed  troubled  in  mind.  Sometimes  he  seemed  to 
be  impressed  that  he  was  not  making  a  right  use  of  his 
property,  and  he  began  to  be  afraid  to  give  an  account 
of  his  stewardship.  No  one  could  rise  up  and  plead  for 
him ;  no  one  could  say  they  had  been  blessed  by  him, 
no  widow's  heart  ever  sang  for  joy  because  he  remem 
bered  her  "low  estate."  He  told  his  wife  of  his 
wretched  misgivings.  She  tried  to  comfort  him,  yet 
herself  felt  condemned.  The  children  only  laughed  at 
their  superstitious  fears. 

There  came  a  heavy  storm  upon  them  during  their  pas 
sage.  The  captain  looked  out  fearfully,  and  the  pilot 
felt  dismayed ;  the  passengers  were  terror-stricken,  and 
John  Athol  quivered  like  an  aspen  leaf,  and  begged  the 
clergyman  to  pray  for  him.  Money  at  this  time  seemed 
of  little  consequence ;  all  they  coveted  was  the  enduring 
riches  of  an  inheritance  above. 

John  made  most  solemn  promises  if  his  life  should  be 
spared ;  indeed,  all  his  family  seemed  impressed  while 
the  danger  impended ;  but  when  the  storm  ceased,  the 
children  forgot  their  resolutions,  and  frolicked  as  before. 
Not  so  did  their  parents. 

They  were  at  length  safely  landed  in  England,  and 
there  John  Athol  engaged  in  a  lucrative  business,  and 
again  commenced  an  industrious  career,  taking  his  two 
boys  under  his  immediate  supervision,  and  allowing  them 
only  what  was  necessary  for  a  respectable  appearance, 
and  obliging  them  to  work  for  that.  At  first,  they 


20  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

reluctantly  acceded,  but  finding  little  enjoyment  in  com 
plete  idleness,  they  soon  were  happy  in  their  new  occu 
pations. 

Mrs.  Athol  attempted  an  amendment  in  the  young 
ladies,  and  so  far  succeeded  as  to  make  them  cheerfully 
surrender  their  foolish  engagements  ;  and,  as  in  England, 
air  and  exercise  are  deemed  so  essential  to  strength  of 
hody  and  mind,  they  all  fell  into  such  "  fashionable  "  and 
healthful  habits,  and,  by  slow  degrees,  they  all  learned 
the  luxury  of  doing  good  with  their  abundance  ;  and  the 
delightful  letters  just  received  in  America,  represent 
them  in  the  most  vigorous  exercise  of  their  powers,  fully 
convinced  that  to  "become  rich"  without  a  ballast  of 
character  proportionate  to  their  weight,  is  always  more 
likely  to  prove  a  snare  than  a  blessing. 


THE   BEST    ROOMS. 

THERE  is  a  kind  of  grim,  staid  air,  which  always  gath 
ers  around  one  on  entering  the  spacious  drawing-rooms 
which  are  devoted  wholly  to  select  visitors  and  fashion 
able  parties.  Who  does  not  prefer  the  free  and  easy 
atmosphere  of  the  basement  or  dining  room,  or  the  snug 
little  nursery,  where  everything  lies  about  carelessly, 
but  not  untidily  ?  You  can  sit  down  in  these  places,  and 
feel  you  arc  a  privileged  guest ;  the  stiff  demeanor  is 
thrown  off,  and  the  thoughts  run  in  an  easy  channel,  and 
you  feel  at  home. 

But  the  "  best  rooms  "  in  a  city  do  not  wear  such  a 
gloomy  air  as  those  select  places  in  the  country.  Deliver 
me  from  the  tomb-like,  sombre  appearance  of  the  best 
parlor  in  a  large  wooden  house,  situated  on  some  bleak 
hill,  where  the  wind  is  keeping  the  .^Eolian  harps  in  con 
tinual  play  through  the  interstices  between  the  window 
casements.  Such  a  room  is  only  opened  on  great  occasions. 
Weddings  are  celebrated  there,  and  so  also  are  funerals. 
Once  in  a  few  weeks,  in  summer,  invited  guests  are 
seated  there  a  few  hours  previous  to  dinner  or  tea.  If  it 
is  a  very  warm  day,  it  may  be  a  luxury  to  stop  awhile 
in  this  apartment ;  for  the  flies  rarely  enter  such  a 
place.  It  is  too  cheerless  for  any  living  creature  to  vol- 


22  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

untarily  make  it  a  home,  unless  it  be  a  company  of 
spiders,  and  they  weave  strange  network  in  such  places. 

It  happened  during  the  last  summer  months,  a  friend, 
who  was  distinguished  for  her  uncommon  neatness  and 
keen  observation  wherever  paint  was  discolored  or 
slightly  soiled,  threw  open  the  doors  of  her  best  par 
lor  to  a  party  of  city  friends.  Unluckily,  a  huge  cob 
web  was  displayed  from  the  mirror  to  the  ceiling,  thence 
the  fancy  device  ran  obliquely  to  the  mantel  shelf,  and 
as  it  arrested  the  attention  of  one  of  the  party,  her  eyes 
seemed  riveted  to  the  spot.  The  hostess,  observing  it, 
proposed  a  walk  in  the  garden,  and,  having  rid  her  room 
of  visitors,  she  lost  no  time  in  displacing  the  cobwebs. 
When  they  returned,  however,  the  lady  very  ungallantly 
joked  upon  the  removal  of  the  web,  and  added,  ' '  I  was 
so  delighted  to  see  such  an  appendage  in  your  room,  my 
dear  friend,  that  I  am  amply  repaid  for  the  effort  I  made 
to  visit  you."  This  practical  joke  was  not,  however, 
pleasantly  received,  and  it  only  serves  to  confirm  the 
truth  that  joking  upon  facts  is  at  all  times  quite  a  haz 
ardous  business. 

And  there  is  "  the  parlor  chamber  "  in  the  country  ! 
It  has  long,  snowy-white  curtains,  deeply  fringed,  and 
looped  on  one  side,  while  the  closed  blinds  give  it  a  sad, 
sickly  hue ;  but  a  solemn  air  seems  to  gather  about  you 
even  here.  The  mahogany  bureau  looks  darker  than  in 
any  other  room ;  the  bed  presents  an  appearance  of  great 
comfort  beneath  its  white  exterior,  but  you  feel  a  strange 
aversion  to  tumbling  and  rumpling  it.  It  seems  a  fit 
couch  for  a  fevered  patient,  who  longs  for  a  cool  and  still 
apartment,  where  the  light  of  day  is  excluded.  Such 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  23 

are  the  associations  which  gather  around  "  best  rooms  !  " 
0 !  I  would  infinitely  prefer  the  more  common-place,  where 
the  sun  has  free  access,  and  people  come  in  and  go  out 
cheerfully  ;  where  even  the  children  play  ball,  and  roll 
hoop,  and  blow  soap-bubbles  ;  for  all  these  things  indicate 
that  life  is  within,  and  merry  hearts  make  us  love  to  live 
in  their  sunshine. 

Yet,  what  a  strange  idea  have  I  broached  against  such 
parlors  and  chambers  !  Who  does  not  furnish  and  keep 
such  7  We  hire  a  house  or  buy  one.  Forthwith  we 
shut  up  a  certain  part  of  it.  and  reserve  it  only  to  open 
on  great  occasions.  Woe  to  the  child  that  ventures  within 
one  of  these  sanctums  with  his  playthings  !  If  he  is 
dressed  nicely,  and  his  little  feet  are  perfectly  clean, 
when  mamma  has  a  fashionable  call  from  a  lady  who  is 
fond  of  children,  little  Tommy  may  go  in  and  ask  the 
lady  "  how  her  little  Susy  is."  But  if  he  touches  the 
tassels  upon  that  embroidered  couch,  or  lifts  up  the  cov 
ering  a  bit  to  look  at  the  pretty  damask  all  concealed 
beneath,  his  mother  tells  him,  "  Tommy,  dear,  you  may 
go  into  the  nursery  with  Margaret,  now.  Mother  don't 
allow  mischievous  boys  in  this  room."  Poor  child  !  how 
gladly  he  runs  out  of  his  prison,  to  where  he  can  play 
unrestrained  and  run  without  fear  !  Tell  me  frankly, 
kind  reader,  do  you  love  the  restraints  which  these  "best 
rooms  "  impose? 


FANCY   WORK. 

THE  young  lady  who  spends  most  of  her  time  in  doing 
"  fancy  work,"  has  a  variety  of  complaints.  What  can 
produce  them '}  She  lies  in  bed  till  she  is  called  to 
breakfast,  drinks  a  strong  cup  of  Mocha,  cats  a  roll,  and 
sits  to  the  fancy  work  !  It  is  "so  enchanting,"  she 
would  just  finish  that  bud;  or  draw  the  outline  of  that 
superb  dahlia,  before  she  dresses  for  dinner ;  but,  hark  ! 
the  bell  i  ings,  and  she  took  no  note  of  time ;  father  has 
come  home,  and  Miss  Paulina  has  her  morning's  work  to 
show  him.  He  praises  it  exceedingly,  gives  her  a  two 
dollar  bill  to  expend  in  variegated  worsted ;  declares  he 
does  not  believe  a  girl  in  town  is  more  industrious  than 
she.  But,  somehow  or  other,  she  has  little  appetite  for  her 
idnner;  she  utterly  discards  meat;  will  take  a  thin  slice 
of  currant  pudding,  and  finishes  her  dessert  with  a  few 
nuts  and  raisins.  She  desires  her  mamma  to  purchase 
those  "  worsteds;"  it  will  save  her  the  trouble  of  going 
unt.  In  a  few  weeks,  a  beautiful  screen  is  produced.  tL> 
work  of  Miss  Paulina's  own  fingers  !  How  it  is  show  a. 
by  her  admiring  parents,  to  numerous  friends  ! 

This  but  goads  on  the  young  lady  to  undertake  a  set 
of  chair-coverings,  and  a  piano-cloth,  to  match  !  In  her 
mind's  eye,  how  splendidly  they  will  look  in  her  own 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  25 

parlor !  for  Paulina  expects  to  be  married  at  no  distant 
day,  when  her  lover  returns  from  abroad.  With  this 
engagement,  and  the  fancy  work,  she  has  little  inclina 
tion  for  society ;  when  she  takes  a  respite,  it  is  to  answer 
her  beau's  last  letter,  or  to  linger  over  those  sentences 
which  he  penned  on  a  foreign  shore. 

Two  or  three  coverings  are  completed,  when  the 
mother  finds  her  daughter  lounging  upon  the  couch  more 
frequently,  and  complaining  of  a  pain  in  her  chest,  be 
tween  her  shoulders,  and  in  her  side.  She  looks  pale ; 
and,  as  she  gets  no  better,  it  is  thought  best  to  send  for  a 
physician.  He  comes,  examines  her  pulse,  looks  at  her 
tongue,  thumps  on  her  lungs,  leaves  a  prescription,  and 
goes  away.  But  not  so  with  the  disease ;  a  universal 
debility  follows,  and  a  cough  succeeds.  People  speak  of 
it  as  a  case  of  consumption ;  but  the  parents  are  strangely 
blinded,  and  talk  about  Paulina's  native  constitution ; 
that  she  never  from  infancy  was  sick  a  day  before  —  her 
cough  is  a  cold ;  she  must  take  a  composition  of  some 
sort,  which  will  remove  it.  The  physician  leaves  a  recipe ; 
says  little  respecting  his  patient,  but  examines  the  lungs 
more  frequently ;  and  finally  ends  the  chapter  by  telling 
her  friends  she  had  better  take  a  journey  to  the  Sulphur 
Springs.  She  does  so,  and  is  charmed  with  the  effect. 
The  scenery,  and  bracing  air,  and  entire  change,  almost 
make  her  well  before  she  reaches  the  Springs.  The 
parents  are  joyous  —  they  knew  Paulina  had  no  serious 
disease ;  and,  excepting  a  slight  cough,  and  a  little 
tendency  to  night-sweats,  they  cannot  discover  but  she 
is  perfectly  well.  Just  to  amuse  a  few  dull  hours,  Pau 
lina  took  her  fancy  work. 
8 


26  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

At  the  great  hotel,  filled  with  strangers  and  invalids, 
she  cares  not  to  make  herself  common.  A  girl  whose 
affections  are  pledged  to  another,  cares  nothing  for  the 
mass  of  people  about  her.  She  drinks  the  water,  bathes, 
eats  at  the  public  table,  has  a  voracious  appetite,  and, 
although  she  looks  like  an  invalid,  her  parents  do  not 
believe  her  to  be  one.  She  spends  a  month  with  them, 
and  returns  home  greatly  invigorated,  having  completed 
three  chair-coverings,  and  traced  the  outlines  for  the 
piano-cloth ! 

The  physician  sees  not  so  decided  a  change  for  the 
better  as  he  hoped ;  but  who  wishes  to  communicate  such 
intelligence  to  fond  parents  1  Mr.  Gill  is  daily  expected 
.  in  the  packet  ship  at  New  York,  and  Paulina  is  on  the 
tiptoe  of  expectation,  and  appears  in  her  best  humor  to 
meet  him.  He  arrives,  but  exclaims,  "  Heavens.  Paulina ! 
what  have  you  been  about  1  Why,  you  are  as  pale  as  a 
lily,  and  I  left  you  the  color  of  the  rose." 

Mamma  interposes,  and  details  the  child's  illness ;  says 
she  attributes  a  good  deal  of  it  to  anxiety  on  his  account, 
and  quiets  the  lover  with  the  assurance  that  she  will  soon 
be  well  again.  She  does  grow  better ;  for  she  walks  now, 
rides  occasionally,  and  obeys  more  of  the  laws  of  nature, 
which  she  has  too  long  defied.  Mr.  Gill  does  not  seem 
pleased  with  the  fancy  work ;  has  brought  some  home 
from  Germany,  far  richer ;  and  so  Paulina  throws  by  her 
worsteds,  and  bestows  all  her  labor  upon  her  mother,  as  a 
parting  present.  Keep  it,  fond  mother;  it  was  at  the 
expense  of  a  ruined  constitution,  those  buds  and  fiWers 
were  made  !  Those  cypress  leaves  will  have  a  peculiar 
significance  soon ;  —  they  should  form  the  chaplet  which 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  27 

encircles  the  birth,  age,  and  death  of  this  young 
girl! 

But  she  marries,  —  a  frail,  delicate  creature,  constant 
ly  under  the  care  of  a  physician,  and  a  perpetual  source 
of  anxiety  to  her  husband.  Her  cough  is  more  and  more 
troublesome,  and  they  are  on  the  eve  of  starting  to  pass 
the  winter  in  Charleston,  S.  C.,  when  Mrs.  Gill  is  seized 
with  bleeding  at  the  lungs,  and  is  utterly  prostrated  ! 
Her  physician  only  wonders  the  crisis  has  been  delayed 
so  long !  The  husband  is  distressed  beyond  measure ; 
her  mother  is  frantic,  and  all  at  once  is  awakened  to  the 
danger  of  the  case.  Now,  what  efforts  are  used  —  to 
produce  recovery  !  Physicians  of  acknowledged  celebrity 
are  consulted;  panaceas  that  have  "never  failed"  do  not 
reach  the  case.  Nurses  and  skill  may  prolong  the  suf 
ferer's  life,  but  the  termination  will  soon  come.  The 
announcement  is  made  that  Mrs.  Gill  is  seized  with 
another  fit  of  bleeding,  and,  shortly  after,  that  she  is 
dead  !  There  is  no  post  mortem  examination,  although 
the  friends  desire  it ;  it  is  so  clearly  a  plain  case  of  con 
sumption,  that  medical  men  ask  for  no  testimony  but  that 
already  furnished.  There  should,  instead  of  a  post  mor 
tem  examination,  have  been  a  coroner's  inquest,  and  it 
would  have  been  clearly  proved  that  the  parents  were 
guilty  of  murder,  certainly  in  the  second  degree ;  and 
they  should  have  been  made  to  atone  for  such  a  crime  as 
permitting  a  child  to  live  without  any  regard  to  physical 
laws,  and  thus  lay  the  foundation  of  incurable  disease. 

But  how  reads  the  community  such  events  ? 

"  By  a  mysterious  Providence"  says  the  biographer, 
"  a  young  and  interesting  female,  who  had  just  entered 


28  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

upon  the  responsibilities  of  domestic  life,  has  been  sud 
denly  snatched  from  among  us  by  the  insatiate  destroyer 
who  spares  no  mark,  however  prized.  Endowed  by 
nature  with  a  vigorous  constitution,  the  insidious  advances 
of  the  common  enemy  were  not  observed  until  he  had 
sapped  the  citadel  of  life,  and  thus,  in  a  few  short  months, 
the  parents'  pride,  the  husband's  hope,  the  light  of  many 
a  circle,  has  been  snatched  away,  leaving  a  numerous 
band  of  mourners  the  reflection  that  all  which  friendship 
and  skill  could  effect  was  promptly  done ;  but,  alas  !  they 
proved  unavailing."  This  libel  upon  Providence  ought 
not  to  be  borne !  This  natural  effect  of  transgression, 
which  as  surely  followed  disobedience,  as  wilful  suicide, 
should  not  be  ascribed  to  an  inscrutable  decree  !  If  we 
thus  sin  ignorantly,  it  is  all  our  oi.cn  fault,  and  we  justly 
deserve  the  penalty ;  since  every  school-book  might  teach 
us  that  exercise  and  air  are  indispensable  to  any  tolerable 
measure  of  health,  particularly  in  young  females. 

Fancy  work  has  been  the  death  of  hundreds.  Who 
can  take  any  satisfaction  in  examining  the  nicest  piece 
of  elaborate  workmanship,  when  the  penalty  paid  for  it 
was  a  spinal  affection,  or  an  aching  side,  or  diseased 
lungs  ?  A  great  religionist  once  exclaimed,  as  he  looked 
upon  such  a  piece  of  labor,  "  It  is  red  with  the  blood  of 
murdered  time,"  alluding  to  the  most  conspicuous  color 
in  the  embroidery.  Rather  would  I  call  it  suicidal 
murder ;  inflicted  by  known  causes,  for  reasons  wwknown ; 
for,  after  all,  a  yard  of  tapestry  may  be  twice  as  beauti 
ful  as  that  upon  which  life  has  been  sacrificed. 

By  these  remarks  I  would  not  be  understood  to  distwd 
the  use  of  the  needle,  and  instead  thereof  substitute  street 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  29 

spinning !  Far  from  it  —  it  is  fancy  work,  that 
enchanting  labor,  which  binds  some  fingers  to  the  employ 
ment,  regardless  of  proper  exercise,  about  which  we 
declaim.  There  is  no  need  of  enforcing  upon  a  female 
not  to  have  so  strict  a  watch  over  her  hosiery  and  com 
mon  sewing.  I  never  knew  the  health  to  fail  by  too 
close  application  to  common  work.  How  seldom  is  one 
obliged  to  be  reproved  for  over-practising  upon  a  piano  ! 
How  few  for  mending,  or  remodelling,  their  own  clothing  ! 
How  few  for  attending  to  domestic  affairs  !  It  is  only 
upon  this  useless,  body-destroying,  and,  for  aught  I  know, 
sow/-destroying,  fancy  work,  that  I  would  pass  the  laws 
of  condemnation.  Believe  me,  when  I  add.  I  am  acquainted 
with  a  young  lady  who  ruined  her  health,  some  years 
since,  by  working  a,  black  lace  veil! 
3* 


CHASING  THE   RAINBOW. 

THERE  was  a  dark  cloud  in  the  western  horizon.  The 
low  mutterings  of  distant  thunder  were  heard,  and  a  few 
drops  of  rain  gave  warning  of  a  timely  character  to  the 
loiterer  unprotected  in  his  way.  And  as  that  heavy 
cloud  united  with  others,  and  assumed  a  still  more  ter 
rific  aspect,  the  lightning  began  to  play  upon  the  mag 
netic  wires,  the  wind  with  redoubled  fury  swept  the 
foliage  against  the  window-panes,  and  suddenly  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents.  Now,  the  lately  parched  street  was 
filled  with  foaming,  rushing  water,  and  pedestrians 
sought  shelter  in  every  nook  that  offered,  and  all  the  by- 
places  were  secured  as  a  shelter  against  the  untimely 
blast.  The  strife  of  the  elements  seemed  maddened  and 
fearful ;  man,  in  his  lofty  strength,  felt  his  insecurity  and 
inability  to  control  the  mandates  of  his  Creator's  will,  and 
shrank  like  a  child,  to  adore  in  silence  that  wordless 
voice  which  attested  such  almighty  power.  But  look 
now, — the  clouds  have  parted ;  a  narrow  strip  of  clear 
blue  sky  is  discernible,  and  a  splendid  rainbow  is  over 
arching  the  heavens.  Yon  little  urchin  would  fain 
take  hold  of  its  foot ;  for  the  rainbow  seems  to  have  set 
tled  down  just  back  of  yonder  hill.  He  runs  to  find 
its  termination ;  for  he  would  examine  the  prismatic 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  31 

colors  which  are  so  blended  together.  He  would  find 
how  they  are  commingled — would  fain  hold  in  his  tiny 
hand  the  blue,  the  violet,  and  the  delicate  shaded  pink ; 
but,  arrived  at  the  hill,  it  seems  still  further  onward, 
and  its  foot  now  rests  as  far  beyond  his  present  location, 
as  when  he  first  started.  Chase  the  rainbow  as  far  as  he 
will,  it  is  always  terminated  in  the  distance. 

The  child  cries  over  the  delusion ;  he  wonders  of  what 
and  for  what  rainbows  were  made  ;  they  are  emblematic 
of  no  promise  to  him ;  he  wants  a  grasping  reality. 
But  is  it  the  child  only  who  chases  the  rainbow  1  How 
many,  who  have  started  in  life  with  the  heavy  cloud  above 
them,  have,  as  it  parted  and  unfolded  some  magic  colors, 
been  allured  by  the  dazzling  brightness,  and  entered 
upon  a  vain  pursuit  to  catch  the  illusion,  and  yet  have 
always  found  it  still  further  from  their  grasp  !  I  would 
,  not  that  so  many  misguided  travellers  should  rise  before 
me  ;  for  that  thunder-cloud  ought  to  have  left  a  salutary 
influence;  those  heavy  rain-drops  were  designed  to 
moisten  the  parched  soil  of  the  human  affections,  and  that 
rainbow  which  followed  was  a  sure  pledge  that  the  prom 
ises  thus  awakened  would  be  fulfilled  —  only  we  are  too 
curious  to  examine  the  blended  colors,  which  are  the 
precursors  of  our  future  welfare. 

Yet,  look  out  once  more  upon  nature  when  the  tran 
sient  shower  has  subsided.  That  furious  blast,  which  so 
curled  and  bent,  and  even  prostrated,  the  delicate  buds ; 
that  rain,  which  so  washed  the  roots  and  made  numberless 
little  seams  of  earth  as  if  lacerated  to  the  very  founda 
tion,  has  unsealed  the  bud,  and,  as  we  look,  the  flower 
is  imperceptibly  but  beautifully  opening  to  our  gaze ; 


32  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

the  drooping  tendrils  again  rise  with  renewed  strength; 
the  bright  sun  kisses  off  the  pearly  drops  that  stood  upon 
leaf  and  tender  limb,  and  the  beautiful  reflection  of  the 
rainbow  tinges  this  once  fearful  shower  with  a  beauty 
worth  the  skill  of  the  heavenly  Architect. 

Just  so  in  daily  life  —  the  discipline  of  dark  clouds  is 
only  an  augury  of  bright  manifestations  in  the  distance; 
our  tears  are  but  the  fertilizing  of  dry  and  dusty  spots 
which  needed  their  genial  influences,  and  the  rainbow  is 
but  the  light  of  our  Father's  countenance,  to  illumine  tho 
eye  of  faith  with  the  tokens  of  his  love. 


TIMIDITY. 

THE  feeling  of  timidity,  which  sometimes  embarrasses 
us  in  the  presence  of  our  superiors,  often  makes  us  unjust 
to  ourselves.  Our  timidity  drives  our  senses  out  of  us. 
We  are  ashamed  of  our  bashfulness,  and  this  conscious 
ness  makes  us  awkward  in  our  attempts  to  overcome  it. 
We  have  a  friend  who  is  very  loquacious,  and  always 
talks  to  the  purpose,  save  in  the  presence  of  one  man  ; 
and  before  him  he  never  uttered  a  sentence  worth  repeat 
ing.  We  were  forcibly  struck  with  the  same  kind  of 
reserve  which  Hazlitt  describes  in  a  visit  he  paid  to 
Coleridge. 

The  thought  of  the  meeting  had  worn  heavily  upon 
him,  for  he  seemed  to  disparage  his  own  powers,  and 
magnify  his  friend's.  After  the  small-talk  incident  to 
meeting  was  discussed,  Hazlitt  undertook  to  give  Cole 
ridge  an  account  of  some  thoughts  he  had  written  ' '  On 
the  Natural  Disinterestedness  of  the  Human  Mind." 
"But,"  said  he,  "I  failed;  and,  after  I  had  tried  for 
the  twentieth  time,  I  got  some  new  pens  and  paper,  and 
determined  to  make  clear  work  of  it.  I  wrote  a  few 
meagre  sentences  in  the  skeleton  style  of  a  mathematical 
demonstration ;  but  I  was  forced  to  stop  when  half  way 
down  the  second  page,  for  I  tried  in  vain  to 


34  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

words,  images,  notions,  apprehensions,  fancies,  and  facts, 
from  that  gulf  of  abstraction  in  which  I  was  plunged, 
and  concluded  by  shedding  a  few  tears  of  despondency  on 
the  blank,  unfinished  paper.  I  can  write  better  now  ! 
Am  I  better  than  I  was  then  ?  0,  no  !  my  timidity  has 
left  me."  - 

Great  minds  undoubtedly  feel  distanced  as  well  as 
attracted  by  each  other.  Only  weak  heads  with  shallow 
brains  will  chatter  on  regardless  of  their  superiors.  But 
we  are  fast,  as  a  mass,  getting  out  of  this  bashfulness. 
We  are  running  too  far  at  random,  reckless  of  what  peo 
ple  think  or  say  of  us.  Hence,  possessed  of  one  idea,  we 
carry  it  about  with  us,  and  throw  it  in  everybody's  face : 
—  we  write  with  lightning  speed,  and  the  thoughts  are 
scorching,  and  show  only  the  wildness  of  the  brain. 
Such  people  know  not  the  definition  of  timidity,  and  we 
question  whether,  in  the  progress  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury,  the  word,  if  used  at  all,  will  not  be  found  in  our 
dictionaries  with  a  parenthesis,  marked  (obsolete). 


THE   HOLIDAY  WALK. 

WOULD  that  everybody  were  happy  about  these  fes 
tival  days !  We  would  iron  out  the  wrinkles  from  the 
careworn  brow,  and  put  a  jubilant  tone  into  the  speech 
of  those  who  are  brooding  over  "memories  of  the  past," 
and  show  every  gloomy  countenance  how  it  may  be  irra 
diated  by  a  cheerful  smile  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  blessings  which,  although  Avithdrawn,  were  continued 
so  long  and  gave  so  much  of  zest  to  former  days.  But 
we  must  remind  such  that  they  must  look  out  from  them 
selves  ;  and  if  they  will  put  on  their  winter  garments 
and  go  with  me  into  the  crowded  thoroughfares  of  our 
great  metropolis,  where  at  every  other  step  they  will  see 
the  inviting  placards,  "  Christmas  and  New- Year  Gifts 
at  reduced  prices,"  "  Dry  Goods  at  cost,"  "  California 
outdone,"  "  Secure  your  bargains  here,"  &c.,  just  as  we 
happen  to  stop  at  the  window  of  a  toy-shop  we  shall  be 
sure  to  find  Mr.  Jones,  or  Smith,  or  Brown,  who  has 
taken  his  wife  and  their  two  little  precocities  into  this 
very  shop,  to  select  their  holiday  presents.  The  parents 
of  these  children  have  concluded  it  is  best  that  "  Sammy 
and  Tommy  "  shall  make  their  own  selections  this  year. 
It  will  throw  them  more  on  their  own  resources,  help 
them  develop  their  immature  judgment,  and,  in  short, 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

make  them  more  manly.  Now  the  spectator  would 
judge  there  is  little  need  of  that  conclusion,  for  they 
both  are  dressed  in  small-clothes  with  knee-buckles,  wear 
tiny  beaver  hats,  and  carry  walking-sticks,  which  they 
flourish  with  more  of  an  air  than  "  Grandpa."  Besides, 
the  little  fellows  know  enough  of  the  definition  of  words 
to  tell  you  the  different  meanings  of  "I  will"  and  "I 
won't,"  as  they  are  selecting  their  holiday  presents. 
"  Mamma"  has  stood  this  half  hour  trying  to  persuade 
"  Sammy"  to  take  a  little  box  entitled  "The  Wonders  of 
Creation  in  a  Nut-shell ;  "  but  he  has  seen  a  drum,  with 
the  two  sticks  attached  to  its  sides,  and  master  Tommy 
is  blowing  a  miniature  fife,  and  five  and  seven  years  are 
not  insensible  to  martial  music,  and  they  are  resolved  to 
secure  these  noisy  playthings,  and  act  the  part  of  soldiers ; 
for  Biddy  has  promised  to  make  them  each  a  paper  cap 
and  put  a  red  feather  in  it.  Well,  they  have  carried  the 
day,  and  the  purchases  are  made. 

Just  at  the  further  end  of  the  same  counter  little 
"  Susy"  is  selecting  a  big  doll.  "No,  she  don't  want  any 
other  but  that ;"  although  mother  thinks  five  dollars  is  a 
great  sum  to  pay  for  a  miniature  baby,  when  so  many 
real,  living  foundlings  are  set  down  at  our  doors  for 
nothing.  Watch  a  moment. 

"  Susy  "  has  secured  her  treasure,  and  it  is  laid  in  a 
bit  of  a  trundle-bed,  and  her  little  eyes  sparkle  with 
delight,  and  she  jumps  and  capers  and  tosses  up  the  baby, 
and  imitates  the  exact  movements  of  the  nursery -maid 
at  home.  All  this  is  very  pretty  for  sport  in  both  in 
stances.  But  by  and  by,  when  we  take  a  miff  at  some 
foreign  country,  or  fancy  Cuba  would  be  a  pretty  append- 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  37 

age  to  our  United  States,  the  little  boys  who  are  to-day 
playing  rub-a-dub  will,  perchance,  have  grown  to  man 
hood,  and  the  fires  of  patriotism  will  burn  so  fiercely 
that  they  cannot  be  restrained  from  fighting  either  "to 
conquer  or  die;"  and  should  they  be  united  to  the  little 
miss  who  bought  the  big  doll,  but  has  now  grown  to 
womanhood,  and  tosses  a  real,  live  baby,  that  crows  and 
cries  and  wants  to  put  his  fingers  in  the  gas  light,  the 
glorious  fun  which  the  purchasers  to-day  have  made, 
causing  them  to  be  so  gay  and  happy,  will  settle  off  in 
a  monotone,  and  they  will  talk  plaintively  together  about 
separating,  perhaps  forever,  if  slain  upon  the  battle 
field!  So,  after  all,  we  see  there  is  a  responsibility 
attached  even  to  a  holiday  present.  By  these  very  gifts 
we  may  lay  the  foundation  of  a  ferocious  spirit,  or  sow 
the  seeds  of  a  proud  and  vain  superciliousness,  which 
may  flower  in  after  years,  when  you  can  never  eradicate 
the  root,  and  shall  even  have  forgotten  that  you  helped 
the  germination  by  gratifying  the  indulgence  of  the  first 
tiny  wants  of  childhood. 
4 


THE   HYDROPATHIST. 

WHY  not  be  a  fish,  and  swim  all  the  time  in  your 
native  element  ?  Why  dart  out  from  the  aquatic  tub  to 
be  placed  between  feather  beds,  encased  in  wet  sheets, 
and  thus  sweat  out  thy  existence  contrary  to  the  law  of 
old,  "by  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  thou  shalt  earn  thy 
bread"  ?  Do  not  become  a  monomaniac  upon  one  idea. 
Bathing  is  good, — daily  ablution  is  refreshing,  invigor 
ating,  cleansing,  purifying ;  but,  like  all  good  things, 
it  may  be  perverted.  Cold  water  is  not  the  panacea 
for  every  ailment  and  ill  in  life ;  a  wet  jacket  will  not 
always  ward  off  every  attack.  But  let  us  not  quarrel 
about  this  liquid  element,  water.  It  is  to  be  highly 
prized,  —  we  will  admit  all  its  excellences ;  but,  in  doing 
so,  we  would  not  overlook  other  bountiful  provisions  of 
nature,  by  which  both  the  outer  and  inner  man  is  ma.de 
a  worthy  temple  for  the  human  soul.  An  exclusive 
medicine,  like  an  exclusive  thought,  is  very  apt  to  de 
range  all  the  natural  functions.  You  have  lost  flesh, 
but  you  have  the  cleanly,  wholesome  appearance  of  a 
duck.  You  have  wasted  your  system  by  injudiciously 
applying  this  element.  Some  have  broken  down,  by 
thus  doing  violence  to  constitutional  laws.  Yet  you  still 
persist  in  this  daily  practice;  its  use  occupies  all  your 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  39 

thoughts ;  your  medicine  has  become  your  daily 
thought;  and  when  this  is  the  case,  it  is  the  more  doubt 
ful  whether  the  malady  will  leave  you.  Cheerful  occu 
pation  for  the  mind  has  done  more  toward  recovery  of 
the  body  than  all  other  remedies  put  together.  Again 
I  caution  you,  use,  but  do  not  abuse,  this  kindly  element. 
A  duck  with  the  mind  of  a  man  would  be  a  natural 
phenomenon.  Be  a  hydropathist  if  you  will,  but  for 
humanity's  sake  do  not  ally  yourself  with  any  other 
species  but  that  God  intended  for  you. 

Look  at  the  canary  in  your  window  ;  watch  his  habits. 
Early  in  the  morning  he  dips  his  wings,  and  flutters 
about  in  his  tiny  pond  ;  but  no  sooner  has  he  done  so, 
than  he  rises  to  the  top  of  his  cage,  and  begins  to  carol 
forth  his  song.  He  is  not  again  in  the  element  rioting 
in  excess.  Learn  of  the  bird  to  be  cleanly,  but  like  him 
plume  thy  wings  for  an  upward  flight. 


THE  WIFE   ON   THE   HOMESTEAD. 

THERE  are  few  positions  in  life  more  trying  than  the 
situation  of  a  daughter-in-law;  particularly  if  she  be 
doomed  to  reside  with  the  "  old  folks/'  and  a  variety  of 
brothers  and  sisters,  who  are  all  pledged  to  their  own 
ways,  and  feel  infallible  in  their  judgment  upon  others. 
We  are  all  frail ;  but  the  covering  with  which  we  shield 
the  faults  of  our  own  kindred  seems  to  be  cast  aside  in 
this  new  relationship.  "Richard"  never  does  an  im 
proper  thing;  but  if  "Mary"  has  purchased  a  rich 
shawl,  or  has  treated  herself  to  a  new  silk  dress,  and 
appears  out  fresh  and  neat,  without  a  previous  consulta 
tion,  what  a  whispering  and  wondering,  perhaps  what  a 
jealous  and  envying  disposition  is  manifested  !  The  old 
lady  says,  ' '  she  never  brought  up  her  girls  to  such  ex 
travagance.  Hitty  never  owned  a  nice  silk  in  her  life, 
but  she  earned  it  in  keeping  school ;  and  Sarah  Ann  has 
never  afforded  herself  a  silk  cloak.  Now,  to  have  such 
an  interloper  come  right  in  upon  us,  and  set  such  fash 
ions,  is  quite  too  much  for  me.  Besides,  it  will  fail 
Richard,  poor  boy,  who  has  always  kept  his  money  in 
such  a  snug  way."  But  stop,  my  good  friend;  Mary 
brought  to  your  son  some  thousands,  and  has  more  in 
expectancy ;  or  she  is  a  sweet-tempered  lady,  and  such 
conduct  will  sadly  grieve  her. 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  41 

Then  \voe  to  the  young  wife  if  they  live  in  common  ! 
The  veriest  trifles  are  often  magnified,  and  the  happiness 
of  a  family  is  often  marred  by  the  addition  of  a  single 
extra  egg  in  the  pudding,  or  a  disposition  to  make  a  little 
tasteful  arrangement  upon  the  table,  even  with  her  own 
purchased  articles.  In  this  case,  it  is  said,  "  modern 
upstarts  wish  to  begin  where  their  fathers  left  off.  The 
country  is  all  tending  to  pauperism,  and  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  economy  practised  now-a-days." 

But  the  trials  are  not  all  told ;  indeed,  no  pen  could 
portray  all  the  petty  vexations  with  which  some  young 
housekeepers  are  assailed.  A  few  friends  to  tea,  a  light 
entertainment  for  the  evening,  a  few  extra  lamps,  an 
accompaniment  to  the  piano  as  the  finale  piece,  how  it 
grates  and  jars  on  the  ears  of  the  old  people  in  the  sitting- 
room  !  There  may  have  been  performers  on  flutes  and 
tamborines ;  solos  and  duets  may  have  been  sung  for  years 
by  their  own  daughters,  without  a  word  of  complaint ; 
but  the  scene  is  changed  now !  These  modern  wives 
have  friends  with  whom  they  correspond,  and  sometimes 
they  do  not  feel  as  if  their  time  is  entirely  thrown  away 
if  they  attend  to  some  literary  pursuits,  read  a  valua 
ble  book,  or  even  glance  over  the  contents  of  the  daily 
journal.  But  to  encounter  the  imputation  of  "  saunt^r- 
ing  away  one's  time,"  or  being  charged  with  "being 
indifferent  to  the  interests  of  a  husband,"  because  one  is 
sometimes  out  of  the  treadmill,  is,  indeed,  a  hard  lot. 

And  to  fail  in  well-meant  efforts,  to  have  a  wrong  con 
struction  placed  upon  all  one's  actions,  to  be  watched, 
questioned,  bored  and  fretted  at,  why,  it  would  destroy 
the  serenity  of  an  angel.  But  worse  than  all  is  to  have 
4* 


42  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

a  backbiting  spirit  going  on  with  Richard,  the  husband, 
by  loving  sisters  and  an  affectionate  mother,  to  make  him 
feel  he  has  erred  in  his  choice  !  Let  me  tell  you,  Rich 
ard,  Avhen  it  conies  to  this,  for  pity's  sake  find  other 
quarters ;  board  at  some  third-rate  hotel  is  preferable, 
for  there  independence  is  felt,  and  this  often  atones  for  a 
frugal  table.  If  you  remain  where  you  are,  as  you  are, 
you  will  not  be  troubled  many  months  with  a  cheerful 
companion ;  she  will  first  pine  away  without  any  apparent 
cause ;  the  family  will  never  think  her  much  ill ;  the 
advice  of  a  physician  will  be  deemed  unnecessary ;  and, 
erelong,  she,  the  light-hearted,  rosy-cheeked  wife,  will 
slowly  decay,  like  the  damask  rose  with  a  worm  at  its 
root. 

This  is  not  all  a  fancy  sketch.  Thousands  have 
endured  similar  trials,  and  if  they  have  survived  them, 
you  will  find  cross-grained,  peevish  women  have  been 
the  result  of  such  living ;  and  who  can  tell  how  many 
fatal  diseases  have  followed  in  the  train  of  blighted 
hopes  ? 

In  most  cases,  the  smallest  establishment  is  more  con 
ducive  to  happiness  than  taking  the  wife  to  the  homestead. 
Exceptions  there  may  be ;  but  they  are  few,  like  the 
stars  in  the  horizon  when  most  of  the  sky  is  overcast. 


A  CHAPTER  ON  CORNS. 

WHO  ever  wrote  out  a  pain  1  What  word  can  express 
the  twinging,  indefinable  sensation,  which  arises  from  the 
small  protuberance  called  a  corn  ?  Yet  how  few  re 
gard  such  an  irritation,  that  literally  makes  you  so  mis 
erable  and  unhappy  !  True,  you  apply  a  plaster  when 
your  patience  is  worn  out,  or  you  wrap  the  aching 
excrescence  in  emolient,  or  bathe  it  in  cold  water ;  but 
who  ever  thinks  of  commiserating  with  one  who  has 
only  a  corn  ?  A  fever  may  bring  more  debility  with 
it.  but  not  half  so  much  pain  ;  a  disease  which  calls  for 
medical  aid  may  excite  more  alarm,  but  is  not  so  trying 
as  a  corn.  Did  you  ever  take  a  walk  in  the  country 
when  the  windows  of  heaven  had  been  shut  up  some 
days,  and,  after  you  had  broiled  an  hour  in  the  sun, 
attempt  to  remove  the  tight  shoe  which  enclosed  your 
corn  7  Could  you  ever  describe  the  sensation '?  Did 
you  ever  put  on  a  new  pair  of  boots,  and  set  off  in  a  car 
or  coach,  where  you  were  confined  all  day  without  rem 
edy,  and  not  suffer  more  distress  than  language  could 
describe  ? 

I  appeal  to  the  great  brotherhood  of  humanity,  for 
they  are  legions,  who  know  by  experience  that  I  hav« 
sketched  realities. 


44  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

But  the  foot  must  be  dressed  neatly.  One  must  have 
a  good  fit,  and  that  means  a  snug  one  ;  consequently  we 
go  limping  through  the  world  with  a  distorted  coun 
tenance,  and  walk  as  if  treading  on  precious  gems, 
simply  because  our  feet  are  scourged.  How  we  welcome 
the  sight  of  our  best  friend,  an  old  shoe !  How  gladly 
we  raise  the  aching  foot  to  another  chair,  and  feel  how 
comfortable  is  solitary  confinement,  if  we  are  only  at 
ease  !  Whence  come  these  afflictive  evils  —  what  pro 
duces  them?  "Tight  shoes,  tight  boots,"  is  again  and 
again  reiterated.  You  tell  your  shoemaker  these  troubles ; 
he  measures  you,  gives  plentiful  allowance  to  ease ;  but, 
alas  !  a  woful  twinge  gives  you  warning  that  he  has  mis 
understood  the  case.  You  grow  despairing,  threaten  to  cut 
a  slit  in  the  side  of  the  new  boot  or  shoe,  when  along 
comes  the  newspaper.  The  advertisement  headed  ' :  Corns 
Cured  "  has  more  interest  to  you  than  the  Compromise 
Bill.  The  corn  can  be  extracted  for  the  trifling  siim  of 
one  dollar  !  The  coin  in  the  desk  drawer  is  drawn  out  most 
cheerfully,  and  you  are  soon  on  your  way  to  submit  to 
amputation.  Some  one  in  the  crowded  street  treads  on 
you,  and  your  corn  is  touched  in  the  most  sensitive  part, 
so  that  you  literally  cry  out.  You  arrive  at  the  surgeon's. 
He  looks  at  the  cause  of  all  your  nervous  agitation,  and 
tells  you  he  can  directly  relieve  you.  You  throw  down 
the  dollar ;  without  much  ado  he  extracts  the  corn,  and 
you  are  a  happy  being.  Life  seems  all  sunshine  ;  you  fit 
out  in  French  boots  and  narrow-toed  shoes,  and  patent 
shining  leather  pumps,  and  really  dance  on,  where  before 
you  only  limped. 

But  did  ever  an  ecstatic  joy  last  long  ?     All  at  once, 


SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS.  45 

in  a  hot  dog-day,  you  feel  another  twinge.  There  is  no 
mistake  in  the  feeling  ;  a  new  corn  is  springing  up  just 
where  the  old  one  was  taken  out.  You  feel  that  you  have 
been  humbugged  —  go  to  your  doctor  with  the  perspira 
tion  on  your  brow,  and  demand  the  reason  of  this  sensa 
tion  ?  He  tells  you,  ' '  My  dear  sare,  for  one  dollar  I 
relieve  you.  You  treat  your  toe  like  Avell  person,  Avhereas 
it  be  in  val  id."  You  swing  open  the  door  and  return, 
wisely  concluding  if  you  are  always  to  wear  moccasins 
and  loose  slippers,  you  will  help  him  to  no  more  amputa 
tions.  In  a  few  days  he  calls  on  you  to  inquire,  "  If, 
sare,  you  object  to  append  your  name  to  von  certificat, 
that  you  were  entirely  cured  by  mine  agency  ?"  How 
lucky  it  is  we  were  taught  lessons  of  good  breeding  ! 
How  fortunate  that  we  call  it  "vulgar  and  low"  to  kick 
over  a  dumb  animal,  much  more  a  contemptible  quack  ! 

There  are  ills  we  are  born  to  bear,  and  corns  come 
under  this  catalogue.  We  cannot  tread  firmly,  and  we 
need  not  expect  it ;  we  cannot  feel  easy,  and  we  need  not 
covet  it,  only  when  in  a  dark  evening,  or  about  our  own 
home,  we  find  the  old  slippers  and  give  ourselves  to  free 
and  easy  treatment. 

We  read  that  St.  Paul  says,  "  a  thorn  was  given  him 
in  the  flesh."  Commentators  are  divided  as  to  what  the 
annoyance  was ;  but  who  can  doubt  but  it  was  a  corn  ? 


PLEASURE-SEEKING. 

TRUNKS  and  bandboxes  were  never  in  greater  requi 
sition  than  at  the  present  time.  Look  at  the  coach  at 
the  door  of  your  opposite  neighbor.  See  the  vast  quan 
tity  of  baggage  that  is  to  be  piled  on  behind,  beside  the 
carpet-bags  and  valises  under  the  driver's  feet,  and  the 
innumerable  smaller  boxes,  and  sunshades,  and  umbrel 
las,  that  are  to  ride  inside.  We  have  often  pondered 
upon  the  show  the  contents  of  such  an  outfit  would  make, 
displayed  to  the  eye  of  the  multitude.  What  bachelor 
would  ever  again  think  of  marrying,  after  having  wit 
nessed  it  ?  We  are  now  speaking  of  the  mere  sight 
seeing  and  pleasure-travelling  public.  They  are  starting, 
they  scarcely  know  where ;  they  expect  to  touch  at  fash 
ionable  resorts,  to  rest  in  quiet  country  inns,  to  see  life 
as  it  is,  life  as  it  should  be,  and  life  as  we  make  it.  All 
these  places  require  a  great  variety  of  apparel,  adapted 
to  climate,  situation,  and  the  company  to  be  met.  So 
"madam"  must  take  her  brocades,  lest  it  become  too 
cool  for  her  lighter  fabrics  ;  but  the  "  tissues  "  must  not 
be  omitted,  because  in  some  places  there  is  a  great  display 
of  fancy  dresses  even  among  the  "mammas,"  on  account 
of  the  daughters.  Then  the  rigging  for  the  head  —  the 
false  fronts,  or  half  or  whole  wigs,  fresh  from  the 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  47 

dresser's  shop,  all  perfumed  with  bergamot ;  the  tasteful 
head-dresses  of  ribbon,  and  lace  and  flowers ;  the  nicely- 
flounced  skirts,  over  which  laundry  maids  have  so  copi 
ously  perspired,  and  quit  their  places ;  the  network 
hosiery  of  the  choicest  silk,  which  has  been  whitened 
around  black  bottles  for  the  occasion.  Why,  the  legions 
of  articles,  which  help  compose  the  contents  of  trunks 
and  bandboxes,  who  can  enumerate  half  of  them,  all 
compressed  tightly  together,  but  so  carefully  wedged  as 
not  to  wrinkle  or  tumble  each  other  ?  Then  there  are  the 
smaller  trunk  and  little  valise,  belonging,  as  the  girls 
say,  to  "  father."  These  contain  shirt-bosoms,  stiff  and 
shiny  as  new  pieces  of  tin  ware,  dickeys  made  to  wear, 
without  wilting,  the  hottest  of  dog-days  ;  perchance  a 
light  gossamer  wig.  or  an  extra  "scratch,"  to  cover 
the  old  gentleman's  bald  head,  or  a  half-dozen  cravats 
that  the  young  ladies  can  tie  into  a  Brobdignagian  style; 
added  to  which  is  a  cumbrous  suit  of  new  broadcloth, 
and  a  case  of  the  nicest  cigars. 

But  we  are  told  that  this  starting  off  is  in  consequence 
of  the  poor  health  of  the  young  ladies.  And  don't  they 
look  puny,  low-spirited  and  dyspeptic,  only  as  the  present 
excitement  has  got  up  a  little  glow?  Ten  chances  to  one 
they  are  out  this  very  minute,  while  their  trunk  is  being 
packed,  buying  "Eva's  Parting."  or  the  very  last  fash 
ionable  music,  and  a  small  cargo  of  confectionery  to  con 
sume  at  odd  times.  And  haven't  they  a  big  trunk  of 
dresses  and  flounced  under-dresses,  of  which  they  alone 
know  the  uses  and  names  7  Mark  it,  how  feeble  they 
are  !  Is  a  walk  proposed  by  the  father  or  mother  ?  "0 
dear,  do  let  us  have  a  carriage  !  "  is  the  exclamation  of 


48  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

the  youngest.  Then  they  talk  upon  side-aches,  and  doc 
tor's  prescriptions,  and  wish  they  could  rid  themselves 
of  nervous  complaints ;  but  they  are  too  feeble  to  ride 
on  horseback  ;  they  have  no  appetites  for  anything  save 
ice-creams  and  syllabubs;  consequently,  they  move  on 
from  the  country  inn  to  more  fashionable  quarters  ;  and, 
after  travelling  the  six  weeks  in  dog-days,  come  home, 
little  refreshed,  to  talk  about  winding  up  with  a  "  Euro 
pean  tour."  The  truth  is,  had  they  left  those  cumbrous 
trunks  and  bandboxes  at  home,  and  travelled  for  comfort 
merely,  they  would  have  found  what  they  sought. 

Now  take  a  peep  at  Mrs.  Bogg's  prospects.  She  has 
been  directed  to  change  the  scene,  —  to  seek  variety  as 
a  restorative  to  "  weakened  nerves  and  general  debility." 
No  sooner  does  she  receive  the  prescription,  than  up 
comes  the  inquiry,  "  What  shall  I  want  to  wear  ? " 
The  dressmaker  is  sent  for ;  her  work  is  slackened,  and 
here  is  a  good  customer.  She  recommends  foulards, 
silk  bareges,  light,  graceful  mantillas,  and  all  the  para 
phernalia  which  a  young  bride  would  desire  on  her  wed 
ding  tour.  From  inability  to  leave  her  chamber  to 
attend  to  any  domestic  avocations,  she  places  herself  in  a 
carriage,  drives  to  our  most  splendid  dry  goods  establish 
ments,  orders  the  most  unique  and  expensive  articles, 
slowly  concludes  which  color  will  best  become  her  lily 
cheeks,  and  finally  orders  a  large  parcel  for  the  aforesaid 
dressmaker  to  select  from.  A  fortnight,  by  day  and 
night,  is  spent  by  seamstresses  to  array  the  invalid  Mrs. 
Bogg  for  this  journey  for  health !  When  she  finally 
starts  off,  she  is  only  sustained  upon  "  Sarsaparilla  bit- 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  49 

ters,"  and  a  prescription  from  the  physician,  "  to  increase 
the  tone  of  the  system." 

Why  did  she  not  put  on  her  travelling  habit,  take  a 
few  useful  articles  of  dress  from  her  full  closet,  have 
them  packed  in  one  trunk  or  a  large  carpet-bag,  and 
thus  derive  some  benefit  from  her  journey  ?  Need  we 
wonder  that  so  many  invalids  return  home  no  better 
than  they  left  it  ?  So  long  as  they  are  slaves  to  fashion, 
and  content  to  forego  all  the  pleasurable  benefits  which 
a  journey  in  a  rational  way  might  produce,  so  long  will 
they  talk  about  going  "  South "  in  the  winter,  and 
hardly  keep  soul  and  body  together  at  the  "  North"  in 
the  summer. 

Now,  it  is  the  contents  of  those  big  trunks  and  band 
boxes  that  work  all  the  mischief.  They  cost  a  vast  deal 
more  than  the  two-dollar-a-day  hotels ;  but  the  indulgent 
husband  or  affectionate  father  very  cheerfully  toils  on  to 
pay  the  semi-yearly  bills,  and  makes  no  complaints,  save 
"  at  the  ruinous  state  of  the  times  and  the  extravagant 
follies  of  people  in  general." 

We  go  for  a  good  appearance  abroad  as  at  home — for 
a  "  genteel  outfit,"  if  you  term  it,  when  among  strangers ; 
but  neither  the  weak,  nor  the  lazy  or  fashionable,  will 
ever  realize  the  full  enjoyment  to  be  derived  from  change 
of  scene  and  air,  until  they  rise  above  all  foolish  rivalry 
in  dress  and  gewgaws.  Half  the  day  spent  in  bedecking 
one's  self  for  dinner,  and  the  other  half  in  preparing  for 
a  "hop"  in  the  evening,  never  created  any  more  self- 
respect  on  account  of  the  labor.  A  whirl-about  in  dog- 
days  with  gentlemen  who  wear  "  imperials,"  and  who 
lie  in  bed  till  noon,  and  then  surfeit  upon  mint  juleps  to 
5 


50  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

keep  up  the  excitement,  is  not  worth  appearing  in  in 
all  that  formidable  array  of  finery  contained  in  those 
large  trunks  and  bandboxes.  Young  ladies  should  never 
marry  nor  be  married  for  outside  appearances ;  and  if 
the  qualities  of  the  mind  and  heart  are  not  sufficient  to 
induce  admiration,  never  imagine  you  can  rummage  any 
thing  out  of  a  "  great  trunk  or  small  bandbox,"  that 
will  enchain  the  affections  during  all  the  varieties  which 
ever  await  the  marriage  state. 


AN  AGREEABLE   COMPANION. 

WE  are  often  wearied  with  a  great  talker,  but  never 
with  an  agreeable  companion.  How  eagerly  the  society 
of  an  agreeable  friend  is  sought !  How  welcome  they  are 
on  a  journey,  in  a  sick-room,  or  at  home  !  Life  assumes 
a  very  different  aspect  when  we  live  in  such  a  genial 
atmosphere.  We  are  never  tired  of  living,  because  there 
is  a  charm,  a  spell,  that  binds  us  to  that  fellow-being. 
Look  at  the  opposite  character,  a  disagreeable  person, 
and  you  will  understand  my  meaning.  This  is  one 
whose  daguerreotype  is  more  easily  taken, —  and  may  we 
not  fear  the  reason  is,  because  the  likeness  is  more  com 
mon? —  a  fretful  being,  who  never  sees  a  ray  of  sunshine 
but  a  cloud  all  the  darker  follows  it;  one  who  enter 
tains  her  friends  with  descriptions  of  petty  grievances  in 
her  children,  or  who  inveighs  against  her  "help,"  who 
are  always  rude  and  unaccommodating ;  and  who  inflicts 
all  yesterday's  conversation  with  Bridget  the  cook,  or 
Nancy  the  chambermaid,  upon  you,  and  is  sure  to  nar 
rate  what  "she  said,"  and  "I  said  to  her."  Such  a 
person  is  severely  trying,  and  more  than  once  have  I 
heard  one  and  another  remark,  "0,  we  won't  call  there; 
Mrs. is  so  tedious  about  her  family  affairs  !  " 

An  agreeable  person  never  holds  up  the  faults  of  her 


52  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

connections,  or  friends,  or  domestics,  to  another  for  the 
sake  of  "making  talk,"  as  some  call  it.  There  are 
always  a  vast  many  subjects  upon  which  we  may  dilate, 
according  as  the  taste,  occupation,  or  habits  of  those  with 
whom  we  are  conversing,  may  suggest,  whereby  mutual 
benefit  may  be  conferred.  Perhaps  we  have  need  again 
to  cite  the  remark,  the  most  agreeable  are  not  of  necessity 
the  most  loquacious.  Dr.  Johnson  once  said,  he  kneAv 
of  but  one  agreeable  woman  in  the  world,  and  the  whole 
secret  of  her  being  so  arose  from  the  fact,  she  knew 
just  when  to  speak,  and  just  what  to  say.  A  rare 
gift,  truly. 


MONEY. 

Do  you  see  that  thin-fingered,  slender  old  man,  bend 
ing  over  the  daily  journal,  the  moment  it  is  left  at  his 
door  ?  What  is  he  looking  for  with  such  intense  inter 
est?  Why,  in  a  small  square  the  prices  of  "  stocks  "  are 
quoted,  and  perhaps,  in  another  square,  some  comments 
are  made  on  "money  and  business;  "  and,  having  read 
these,  he  looks  at  the  "  Telegraphic  "  head,  to  learn  how 
the  New  York  market  stands — what  is  said  about  "  cot 
ton,"  and  other  things,  which  materially  affect  his  invest 
ments.  If  the  "times"  look  favorable,  that  gouty  old 
toe  pains  him  less;  if  squally,  woe  to  the  household 
where  he  reigns  supreme !  Nothing  goes  right  with  him 
when  monetary  affairs  go  wrong.  "  Women  must  curtail ; 
it's  of  no  use  to  spend  so  much  in  finery ;  one  silk  dress 
is  enough  for  any  woman.  As  to  servants,  he  will  not 
pay  so  much  wages."  "But,  who  will  rub  your  foot, 
grandpa  1 "  asks  his  little,  smiling  grand-daughter.  "I'll 
rub  it  myself,"  he  answers  gruffly,  "  before  I  '11  come  to 
nothing  by  extravagant  help."  All  this  comes  from 
reading  those  little  items  mentioned  above.  His  family 
never  guess  the  reason  of  this  irritability ;  he  hardly 
knows  what  produces  it  himself ;  but,  depend  on  it,  its 
whole  origin  can  be  traced  to  money. 
5* 


54  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

Now,  I  contend,  much  of  our  happiness,  reason  as  we 
will  about  it,  depends  on  money. 

It  is  vain  to  enumerate  what  it  will  procure.  The 
richest  land,  the  best  house,  the  most  elegant  furniture, 
the  finest  span  of  horses,  the  neatest  vehicle,  the  best  of 
attendants,  the  gayest  troop  of  friends,  the  choicest  old 
wines,  the  rarest  London  porter,  the  first  box  of  straw 
berries,  the  finest  salmon  in  the  market,  cucumbers  in 
March,  peas  in  April,  beans  the  first  day  of  May !  If 
you  are  sick,  it  will  make  a  most  attentive  physician,  who 
will  call  in  a  "  consulting  ' '  brother,  at  the  sight  of  the 
most  remote  danger ;  it  will  make  a  person  stand  over 
you  the  longest  night,  and  perform  any  kind  of  office.  If 
you  are  asthmatic,  it  will  prop  up  pillows  behind  you  ;  if 
feverish,  it  will  change  your  mattresses  daily ;  if  desirous 
of  pleasant  sights,  it  will  command  the  most  splendid 
bouquet,  and  make  Hamburg  grapes  as  plenty  as  hail 
stones.  If  you  are  lonely,  it  will  bring  you  a  choice 
companion  for  the  hour,  week,  month,  or  life  even.  If 
you  are  old,  it  will  induce  a  pretty  little  girl  of  seventeen 
to  marry  you.  If  you  are  desirous  of  travelling,  it  will 
procure  you  the  best  berth  in  the  steamship,  and  most  re 
markable  attention  during  the  passage,  and  whenever 
you  land.  It  will  give  you  the  best  pew  in  the  church, 
and  the  most  commanding  influence  in  the  congregation. 
All  the  weekly  and  daily  journals  can  lie  on  your  table, 
and  you  can  make  even  an  editor  happy  by  your  sub 
scription,  if  he  chances  to  be  proprietor  of  the  paper  ! 

Now,  who  undervalues  this  great  good?  Why,  the 
clergyman  says,  "It  won't  give  you  the  keys  to  a 
heavenly  inheritance;"  and  Aunt  Judith  says,  "Your 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  55 

money  perishes  with  you."  But  all  this  admits  of 
qualification.  If  you  have  opened  your  hearts  to  objects 
of  benevolence,  if,  in  your  life  and  in  your  will,  you  have 
alleviated  human  woe,  and  mitigated  sorrow  and  disease, 
who  shall  say  that  heavenly  treasures  have  not  been  pro 
cured  by  the  wise  use  of  money  ? 

Ay,  in  your  life,  that  is  the  better  way,  appropriate 
some  of  those  accumulating  dividends,  which  so  harass 
your  day-dreams,  and  cause  you  to  toss  so  uneasily  at 
night,  lest  you  should  not  reinvest  them  in  a  productive 
channel.  Make  somebody  or  something  your  favorite 
object  of  regard,  so  that  "executors  "  and  "  administra 
tors  "  need  not  quibble  because  the  phraseology  of  your 
will  is  not  perfectly  understood. 


COMING  EVENTS. 

THE  habit  of  brooding  over  a  coming  event  is  not 
preparation  to  meet  it.  The  faithful  performance  of  to 
day's  duty  is  the  truest  test  that  we  shall  best  meet  to 
morrow's  trial.  Some  are  forever  living  in  the  future ; 
but  this  clearly  is  not  the  design  of  our  heavenly 
Father.  Else  why  are  we  so  completely  shut  out  from 
forthcoming  misfortunes  ?  Why  no  certain  assurances 
that  contemplated  happiness  will  ever  arrive  1  Plainly, 
because  it  is  best  it  should  be  so.  And  herein  God  has 
made  all  alike,  both  high  and  low,  subject  to  the.  same 
contingencies.  The  care  he  exerts  over  the  beggar  is  the 
same  as  over  the  monarch  —  and  this  teaches  us  the 
emptiness  of  earthly  honors. 

The  fear  of  death  keeps  some  in  perpetual  bondage. 
Now,  an  event  that  our  Creator  has  made  certain,  but 
indefinite  as  to  time,  was  not  designed  to  keep  us  in  con 
tinual  servitude.  I  have  duties  to  perform  ;  family  and 
social  engagements  to  meet;  business  wants  to  be  at 
tended  to,  and  daily  employments  upon  which  my  physical 
life  depends.  I  need  all  the  vigor  of  constitution,  all  the 
exercise  of  mental  power,  to  meet  these  cares.  My  time 
cannot  be  frittered  away  in  random  fancies  upon  calcu 
lating  chances.  I  must  work  !  and  if  my  time  has  come 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  57 

that  I  must  lie  down  and  die,  have  I  not  made  better  prep 
aration,  by  this  discharge  of  present  duty,  for  the  retri 
bution  which  awaits  me  ? 

But  there  .is  a  preparation.  Very  true,  but  it  is  living 
as  if  under  the  eye  of  a  kind  Parent,  looking  to  him  for 
daily  strength,  and  then  pressing  on  to  labor.  I  am  to 
be  wise ;  —  the  necessary  knowledge  of  my  physical 
frame  will  induce  me  to  be  temperate,  and  not  per 
vert  my  powers ;  and  if,  by  what  we  call  accident,  we  are 
suddenly  removed,  or  linger  out  in  a  fitful  fever,  all  is 
well  —  God  has  thus  ordained  the  event  —  it  came  in 
the  right  time  and  place,  because  it  was  his  ordination. 

A  little  child  visited  its  mother's  tomb.  It  had  been 
told  her  that  her  mother  lay  in  a  sweet  sleep.  Thinking 
it  could  wake  her,  it  shouted  in  its  tiny  voice,  "  Mother, 
dear  mother,  let  me  into  your  little  room.  Call  me, 
mother  ;  I  would  be  with  you ;  it  is  so  cold  and  stormy 
here,  and  so  quiet  and  warm  in  your  little  room.  Do, 
mother,  let  me  in.  Once  you  took  my  little  hand  and 
held  it  fast.  Take  me  again  as  you  did  once.  They  tell 
me  you  cannot  hear  —  but  where  is  heaven  ?  Here  is 
my  mother." 

An  aged  woman  sat  by  the  same  tomb,  and  wept.  "  My 
daughter,"  said  she,  "how  I  wish  I  were  quiet  and  happy 
like  thee  ;  thou  art  pure  as  an  angel,  and  art  gone  to 
dwell  with  them.  But  I  fear  to  enter  the  dark  portals, 
lest  my  spirit  should  be  separated  from  thine ;  for,  alas !  I 
have  not  lived  like  thee." 

We  should  live  so  that  the  grave  our  Redeemer  has 
hallowed  should  appear  as  the  gate  to  Eternal  Mansions. 


MONDAY  MORNING. 

MONDAY  morning  !  The  most  trying  dawn  of  all  tho 
week  !  The  quiet  Sabbath  has  just  passed,  and  a  new 
week  of  vexations  has  commenced.  It  is  washing-day  ! 
The  cook  is  cross ;  the  chamber-maid  has  a  beau  who 
keeps  late  hours,  and  discontent  sits  upon  her  brow  on 
Monday.  John,  the  eldest  boy,  says  he  feels  ill,  and 
does  not  care  to  go  to  school.  This  frets  Emma,  the  lit 
tle  girl,  who  thinks,  if  Johnny  is  allowed  to  stay  at  home, 
she  may  as  well  have  the  headache,  and  stay  too.  The 
breakfast  dishes  are  all  on  the  table,  unwashed,  and  Alice 
says  it  is  none  of  her  work  to  clean  them,  and  Phebe 
says  that  chamber-girls  never  do  it  in  "  genteel  families." 
A  quarrel  ensues ;  the  washing  gets  behindhand,  and 
the  mistress  perceives,  just  as  she  steps  below  to  give 
orders  for  dinner,  that  she  must  encounter  wry  looks  and 
short  answers,  although  she  is  not  conscious  of  any 
special  fault.  Added  to  this,  the  husband  has  discovered 
a  hole  under  the  arm  of  his  coat,  that  he  wishes  his  wife 
to  darn  very  nicely,  and  a  few  stitches  are  to  be  taken 
in  that  fob-pocket,  and  a  few  more  in  cording  anew  the 
bottom  of  his  pantaloons  ;  and  in  the  mean  time  he  in 
quires  "if  it  AYOuld  be  convenient  to  invite  Mr.  Simonds 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  59 

to  dinner  'I  "  Just  as  if,  on  washing-day,  any  food  could 
be  thought  about,  unless  it  be  a  "  picked  up  "  dinner  ! 

The  reign  of  disorder  in  the  kitchen  now  increases  ; 
the  process  of  starching  is  commenced ;  there  is  great 
haste  to  "  hang  out,"  and  little  care  to  rub  clean,  and  a 
gentle  hint  from  the  mistress  brings  down  a  shoAver  of 
abuse  from  the  domestics,  who  declare  every  family  in 
the  city  sends  away  all  nice  garments  to  the  laundry,  and 
intimate  that  hereafter  they  expect  to  be  treated  as  other 
domestics. 

The  children  have  fretted  the  morning  away.  John  went 
out  to  skate,  about  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  and  grew 
sick  at  his  stomach,  and  is  a  fit  subject  for  water-gruel  — 
a  beverage  he  despises.  Emma  has  broken  her  doll's  face, 
which  she  promised  papa  she  would  keep  forever,  if  he 
would  buy  it  for  a  "  Christmas  present ;  "  and,  to  com 
plete  the  vexation,  some  "  dear  friends  "  from  the  country 
have  come  in  just  to  deposit  their  baggage,  get  their  food, 
and  do  some  shopping. 

Madam  goes  down  to  regulate  affairs  in  the  region 
of  discord.  The  bell  rings,  and  some  of  her  genteel 
acquaintances  have  called  ;  she  would  not  but  be  dressed 
in  silk,  for  the  world,  to  receive  them ;  so  she  departs 
hastily  to  her  dressing-room,  attires  herself  like  a  lady, 
and  is  only  mortified  by  a  chattering  little  fellow,  who 
says,  "  Ma  is  getting  dinner  down  stairs,  but  she  went 
up  to  dress  her  just  now."  And  what  a  meeting  ! 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  H. !  " 

"  No  more  so  than  I  am  to  find  you  at  home.  Now 
I  really  hope  I  have  not  interfered  with  any  domestic 
engagement." 


60  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

"  Not  in  the  least;  I  am  perfectly  at  leisure;  have 
nothing  in  the  world  to  do." 

"  How  were  you  pleased  at  the  Philharmonic,  or  the 
Musical  Fund,  or  the  Handel  and  Haydn  ?  " 

"0!  delighted." 

Just  then  Mr.  H.  opens  the  door,  and  has  come  to  din 
ner.  The  ladies  retire.  I  will  not  portray  the  continua 
tion  of  the  scene.  Suffice  it  to  say,  there  is  a  magic 
charm  which  the  serene  countenance  of  the  husband  can 
diffuse,  so  that  when  gathered  around  a  less  expensive 
dinner  than  yesterday,  the  agreeable  turn  he  can  give  his 
conversation  shall  leave  all  the  discomforts  of  the  morn 
ing  in  the  distance. 

Monday,  then,  has  its  alleviations.  "  After  a  storm 
there  comes  the  calm."  The  domestics  become  better 
pleased ;  evening  finds  all  things  righted ;  life  is  not 
looked  upon  as  in  the  morning,  and  we  set  out  afresh, 
regardless  of  whatever  trials  may  darken  the  successive 
days,  well  assured  that  no  morning  will  be  half  so  try 
ing  as  this  same  Monday. 


MRS.  PELL'S   EXPERIMENT. 

THE  entire  wish  of  Mrs.  Pell's  heart  had  long  been  to 
remove  into  the  country.  She  had  taken  so  many  after 
noon  rides,  passing  by  white  cottages  covered  with  honey 
suckle  and  woodbine ;  she  had  looked  upon  so  many 
open  piazzas,  where  rocking-chairs  and  rocking-horses 
composed  the  furniture  of  such  shady  retreats,  and  her 
mind  was  so  entirely  fixed  upon  trying  the  experiment, 
that  General  Pell  had  little  peace  until  her  wishes  were 
fully  carried  out.  So  when  "  Rosebrier  Cottage  "was 
advertised,  General  Pell  was  the  purchaser.  Mrs.  Pell 
was,  at  this  time,  the  most  blithe  and  delightful  woman 
to  be  found.  She  was  about  to  relinquish  her  city  cares ; 
to  vacate  her  large  granite  house  ;  to  make  an  overturn  in 
her  domestic  arrangements,  and  move  into  the  country. 
We  must  do  justice  to  Mrs.  Pell's  character ;  therefore 
we  must  not  leave  out  of  sight  an  avaricious  propensity, 
which  ever  led  her  to  count  the  cost  before  undertaking 
any  great  outlay.  It  was  a  long  time,  therefore,  before 
she  settled  in  her  mind  what  would  be  a  proper  sum  for 
the  occupant  of  her  city  dwelling.  She  thought  the  dif 
ference  in  rent  between  city  and  country,  with  economy, 
would  defray  all  the  household  expenses  in  her  new 
home.  General  Pell  was  not  such  a  nice  calculator  ;  he 
6 


62  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

was  a  military  man,  and  when  a  heavy  demand  was 
made  upon  his  purse  to  support  his  office,  he  never 
flinched,  and  it  was  in  part  to  keep  him  more  at  home, 
away  from  such  enjoyments,  that  Mrs.  Pell  had  been 
induced  to  try  the  change.  Then,  again,  the  health  of 
her  children  was  another  prime  consideration.  Arthur 
was  just  recovering  from  the  effects  of  a  whooping-cough, 
and  Billy  always  was  afflicted  with  some  complaint  inci 
dent  and  attendant  upon  hot  weather.  Her  physician 
had  for  several  years  ordered  them  into  the  country  dur 
ing  the  rage  of  dog-days,  and  Mrs.  Pell,  and  her  chil 
dren  and  servants,  had  not  found  so  much  comfort  in 
staying  by  the  sea-shore,  or  living  at  the  "  Springs,"  as 
some  other  ladies.  Those  heavy  payments  at  the  close 
of  the  term  were  a  great  drawback  upon  her  enjoyment ; 
for  she  was  mistress  of  her  own  purse,  from  property 
inherited  in  her  own  right ;  so  General  Pell  never  con 
tradicted  or  advised  contrary  to  her  preconceived  plans. 

The  removal  to  "Rosebrier  Cottage"  was,  in  itself, 
quite  an  event  in  Mrs.  Pell's  life.  The  general  had 
found  a  tenant  for  the  city  residence,  — a  member  of  the 
company  whom  he  once  commanded,  —  and  a  five  years' 
lease  was  drawn ;  the  general,  however,  reserving  the 
privilege  of  one  chamber  in  the  mansion  for  his  private 
use  ;  so  that  when  over-fatigued,  or  fearful,  it  might  be, 
of  a  Caudle  lecture,  he  could  have  a  retreat  where  he 
could  lie  down  in  peace. 

"Rosebrier  Cottage"  was  just  off  from  the  great  road ; 
down  a  verdant  lane,  bordered  on  each  side  with  shrub 
bery.  Just  the  spot  where  a  romantic  couple  would 
dream  of  living  upon  ethereal  substances,  forgetting  all 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  63 

about  vulgar  bodily  wants.  But  Mrs.  Pell  had  a  differ 
ent  taste  arid  a  different  family.  She  lived  for  her  chil 
dren  now,  and  for  her  husband  when  he  was  with  her. 
But,  in  this  chosen  retreat,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
she  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  solitude.  The  nursery 
maid  had  charge  of  the  two  boys,  and  in  their  gym 
nastic  exercises  and  rural  sports  she  could  not  largely 
participate. 

The  cottage  was  darkly  shaded  by  heavy  trees ;  there 
was  a  sombre  look  even  in  the  sunshine,  which  reflected 
only  quivering  branches  waving  against  the  Venetian 
blinds ;  there  was  a  deep  silence,  save  when  broken  by  the 
sound  of  the  children's  voices,  and  altogether  a  sense  of 
loneliness  crept  over  the  new  inmates  of  the  cottage.  Gen 
eral  Pell,  when  at  home,  left  early  in  the  morning,  and 
never  returned  till  evening.  So  the  dinner-table  was 
headed  by  Mrs.  Pell  and  her  two  children.  To  keep 
them  under  wholesome  restraint  was  an  impossibility ; 
they  would  take  advantage  of  their  father's  absence,  and 
a  scene  of  wild  disorder  generally  led  the  nursery-maid 
to  remove  them  from  the  table  before  the  second  course 
was  brought  on ;  and  to  a  lonely  woman  in  a  lone  cottage 
the  attraction  of  a  country  home  may  be  imagined.  One 
cannot  twist  wreaths  of  flowers  the  long  day.  Few  are 
listless  enough  to  sit  for  hours  at  an  open  window  to 
hear  the  robins  sing  ;  and,  after  all  the  bustle  of  city  life, 
such  profound  quiet  is  but  "inglorious  ease,"  without 
friendly  companionship. 

It  was  a  long  while  before  Mrs.  Pell's  city  friends 
found  their  way  to  "  Rosebrier  Cottage."  She  had  not 
been  pressing  in  her  invitation  that  they  should  do  so, 


64  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOAYS. 

and  so  they  sparingly  came.  Even  then,  there  was  a 
sort  of  discomfort  about  receiving  them ;  there  was  no 
market  near ;  she  found  it  difficult  to  keep  a  cook,  on 
account  of  the  retired  situation.  There  were  few  to  con 
sume  the  products  of  the  market,  and,  as  the  general  was 
seldom  at  home,  the  dinner  dwindled  into  a  very  common 
affair.  So  a  friend  to  pass  the  day,  although  it  some 
what  relieved  the  monotony,  yet  abated  the  pleasure  by 
the  effort  to  wait  on  her. 

But  how  were  the  children  progressing  ?  They  were 
quite  as  liable  to  illness  as  before.  Arthur,  from  ex 
posure  to  damp  evening  air,  had  several  times  been 
threatened  with  the  croup,  and  Billy  had  broken  one 
arm,  through  the  nursery-maid's  carelessness, of  course, 
besides  being  subject  to  some  chronic  difficulties,  wholly 
attributable  to  the  location  of  "Rosebrier  Cottage." 
The  general,  too,  had  been  absent  on  duty  the  most 
of  the  summer ;  and  Mrs.  Pell  began  to  wonder  why 
the  charms  of  a  country  life  were  so  incomplete.  She 
was  certain  she  enjoyed  nothing.  The  days  seemed 
to  her  of  interminable  length ;  she  had  read  all  her 
books ;  she  had  even  studied  newspaper  advertisements ; 
she  had  hemstitched  all  her  ruffles,  and  as  to  great  care 
upon  her  own  wardrobe,  who  but  the  croaking  frogs,  the 
chattering  swallows,  and  the  whippoorwills  regarded  her 
apparel  ?  Ah  !  she  had  made  a  mistake,  and  we  will  tell 
you  how  she  made  it. 

In  the  first  place,  her  avaricious  spirit  led  her  to 
imagine  a  home  in  the  country  would  be  a  more  economi 
cal  affair ;  secondly,  she  misjudged  her  husband's  taste. 
And,  hereafter,  let  no  woman  imagine,  if  the  charms  she 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  65 

can  throw  about  a  city  home  are  not  sufficient  to  retain 
a  husband  there  as  his  chosen  resort,  that  leaving  him 
among  the  high  spirits  he  covets,  will  ever  win  him  over 
to  rural  felicity.  Then,  as  to  the  matter  of  children's 
health,  there  is  no  security  against  disease,  where  pa 
rental  care  is  improperly  bestowed  or  wholly  entrusted  to 
servants ;  and,  last  of  all,  it  is  never  the  part  of  wisdom 
for  a  wife  to  make  a  distinction  between  "mine  and 
thine,"  hoping  thereby  to  increase  mutual  esteem. 

General  Pell  returned  late  in  the  autumn  from  one  of 
his  tours.  "Rosebrier  Cottage"  had  a  forlorn  look 
outwardly.  The  long,  trailing  vines  were  craving  sup 
port.  The  gardener  had  long  since  left  the  place.  Mrs. 
Pell  was  a  mere  skeleton  ;  and  the  boys  were  wild,  un 
governable,  and  unrestrained  by  parental  discipline.  But 
one  domestic  (the  nursery-woman)  remained  on  duty, 
and  she  received  extra  pay  for  doing  so.  The  general 
met  his  wife  in  tears  ;  but  knowing  it  was  not  discreet  to 
commence  any  comments  upon  the  obvious  condition  of 
things,  he  waited  until  her  proud  spirit  yielded,  and 
importuned  his  assistance. 

A  new  house  was  taken  in  the  city ;  soon  after,  Gen 
eral  Pell  resigned  his  commission,  and  Mrs.  Pell  en 
trusted  him  with  the  investment  of  her  money,  and  this 
repose  of  confidence  led  him  to  financier  in  the  best 
possible  manner,  since  their  interests  had  now  become  a 
mutual  afiair.  Since  then  he  is  much  at  home,  and  the 
perfect  discipline  with  which  he  has  controlled  those 
wayward  boys  has  convinced  the  mother  which  of  the 
two  is  the  better  fitted  to  enforce  obedience.  Mrs.  Pell 
has  never  since  attempted  to  manage  her  family  concerns 
C* 


66  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

alone,  having  been  taught  the  folly  of  seeking  to  control 
a  husband  and  household,  without  having  first  laid  the 
foundation  upon  mutual  confidence  and  esteem. 

The  thought  of  her  first  experiment  to  live  in  the 
country,  in  a  sort  of  half-fledged  condition,  always  man 
tles  her  cheeks  with  the  blush  of  shame ;  but  her  repent 
ance  was  deep  enough  to  effect  a  cure.  We  would  not, 
however,  deem  it  amiss  to  say  a  word  to  other  Mrs.  Pells, 
who  are  sighing  for  Rosebrier  Cottages  as  the  ultimatum 
of  their  hopes.  We  would  by  no  means  disparage  the 
many  pleasures  connected  with  such  a  residence  ;  but 
that  they  have  serious  trials  to  encounter,  who  go  without 
forethought,  admits  of  no  doubt.  The  business  of  the 
husband  not  unfrequently  renders  such  retirement  a 
great  inconvenience  ;  he  cannot  be  much  at  home  while 
his  children  are  actively  employed  ;  the  etiquette  of  the 
table  is  too  often  neglected ;  the  privileges  of  good 
schools  are  sometimes  renounced  ;  life  too  often  degener 
ates  into  a  mere  holiday ;  and,  some  philosophers  will 
have  it,  women  become  imperious  by  being  unrestrained 
in  gayety.  Therefore,  we  would  recommend  to  all  hus 
bands  and  wives  to  seek  their  pleasures  as  far  as  possible 
together ;  never  separate  enjoyment  from  each  other's 
society ;  but,  above  all  things,  if  you  sustain  the  parental 
relation,  live  where  you  can  live  most  with  your  chil 
dren  ;  if  your  inclination  and  means  suggest  a  country 
home,  seek  it,  —  but  never  disjoin  the  two. 


THE   PAST  YOUNG  MAN. 

THE  "  fast  young  man"  does  not  remember  where  his 
father  was  born,  nor  what  was  his  occupation.  The  slow 
means  by  which  he  gained  his  wealth  is  all  an  enigma 
to  him.  He  stepped  into  his  silver  slippers  when  he  died, 
and  has  worn  them  half  out  before  he  has  arrived  at 
years  of  discretion. 

What  a  swell  he  makes  !  Money  has  made  him  some 
what  popular  with  the  upper  ten ;  and  the  daughters  of 
former  shoemakers,  barbers,  and  wine-merchants,  who 
lived  under  ground,  and  "sold  by  the  glass,"  now  look 
upon  him  as  a  "  nice  young  man ;"  and  to  be  sure  he  is. 
His  dickey  is  transparent  with  waxy  gloss ;  his  wristbands 
protude  below  his  cufis  just  far  enough  to  show  their 
quality ;  over  his  vest  is  displayed  such  an  elegant  mas 
sive  California  gold  chain,  that  it-  is  very  pardonable  to 
speak  about  it.  Besides,  he  is  so  generous  !  If  he  meets 
a  young  lady,  he  forthwith  conducts  her  to  a  confection 
er's  to  take  an  "  ice,"  or  a  cup  of  smoking  Mocha ;  there 
the  invitation  is  extended  to  a  concert,  then  an  opera ; 
and,  by  this  time,  both  have  lost  their  natural  vision,  and 
can  only  see  through  expensive  "  eye-tubes." 

But  the  fast  young  man  has  money,  and  what  does  he 


68  SUBSTANCE   ANJJ    SHADOWS. 

care  for  labor,  and  old  women's  talk  about  the  "  road  to 
ruin  "  ?     His  motto  is,  "  one  life  and  a  merry  one." 

At  the  expiration  of  five  years  we  will  look  at  him 
again.  He  has  now  lost  much  of  the  "  dandy,"  and  be 
gins  to  exhibit  quite  a  "  seedy"  appearance.  His  gait 
is  stiff;  he  lounges  at  the  corners  of  the  street,  or  is  found 
sitting,  stooping  and  stupid,  upon  the  loafer's  bench ;  has 
quit  those  "divine  young  ladies."  or,  rather,  they  have 
left  him,  and  he  begins  to  think  his  prospects  for  the 
future  are  rather  cloudy.  If  he  could  but  raise  an  outfit, 
he  would  gladly  take  passage  to  Australia ;  but  if  he  has 
a  friend  (generally  he  has  none),  as  soon  as  he  suggests 
the  idea  of  borrowing  enough  for  "a  start,"  he  is  hushed 
by  the  reply,  "  Why,  to  a  person  of  your  habits  that 
climate  would  soon  prove  fatal."  Now,  what  hopes  can 
he  entertain  ?  The  past  has  been  all  wasted ;  the  present 
finds  him  minus  of  character,  cash,  and  credit ;  the  future 
lies  before  him  with  a  diseased,  bloated  body,  filled  with 
pains,  and  nobody  to  sympathize  with  him ;  and,  beyond 
this  world,  he  so  dreads  a  retribution,  that  he  envies  the 
very  dumb  animal.  He  did  not  mean  to  finish  off  in  this 
manner  when  he  started  in  life. 


SPEECH-MAKING. 

WHY  is  it  that  our  most  talented  public  speakers  arc 
forever  apologizing,  in  the  outset,  for  appearing  before 
the  "  vast  and  intelligent  audience"  1  You  mav  travel 
from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  and,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  when  the  great  man  rises  to  speak,  he 
will  tell  you  "  the  call  was  unexpected;"  or  that  "  he  is 
miserably  jaded  with  the  fatigue  of  a  long  journey;"  or 
"  that  he  has  made  no  sort  of  preparation  for  a  speech," 
which  he  all  the  while  intends  shall  electrify  a  whole 
multitude.  I  wonder  if  public  speakers  think  they  thus 
impose  on  their  hearers,  and  get  up  a  true  sympathizing 
spirit  for  their  professedly  unsound  condition  ?  Why  not 
tell  the  real  state  of  their  minds,  if  an  exordium  is  so 
needful  to  going  on  with  what  they  mean  to  say,  and 
prepare  their  remarks  something  after  this  manner  ?  — 

"  I  rise,  my  friends,  because  I  feel  strongly  inclined 
to  do  so,  knowing  the  power  I  possess,  and  the  eloquence 
for  which  I  am  distinguished ;  this  props  me  up  amidst 
all  the  privations  and  fatigue  attendant  upon  coming 
before  you.  Fame  (that  is,  popular  favor)  I  covet, 
yet  I  would  not  be  accounted  vain  or  filled  with  self- 
esteem." 

Every  man  should  have  a  certain  quantum  of  self- 


70  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

conceit ;  for,  after  being  repeatedly  told  that  his  talents 
are  of  the  highest  order,  that  he  is  remarkable  for  logical 
precision,  and  always  bringing  the  strong  points  in  his 
subject  forward,  so  that  they  leave  an  overwhelming  im 
pression  upon  the  audience,  how  can  he  forget  such  enco 
miums  when  he  next  rises  in  a  crowded  assembly  ? 

Now,  did  a  public  speaker  know  how  distasteful  to  an 
audience  are  his  first  apologies,  he  would  never  make 
them.  If  he  is  unprepared,  why  does  he  say  anything  1 
If  he  is  hoarse,  he  need  not  tell  of  it.  If  he  is  tired, 
nobody  can  help  it.  Could  he  but  see  (I  mean  the 
apologizing  man)  how  his  best  friends  twirl  their  canes, 
or  pick  the  fingers  of  their  gloves,  or  look  suspiciously 
into  their  neighbors'  faces,  there  would  be  few  who  would 
venture  to  begin  with  talking  about  themselves. 

We  have  sometimes  fancied  we  saw  a  wag  coming  upon 
the  stage,  after  all  the  speakers  had  apologized  for  address 
ing  the  audience,  and,  although  not  in  very  good  taste 
to  a  refined  assembly,  yet  commencing  something 
like  this  :  "  My  friends,  I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  have 
this  opportunity  to  utter  my  sentiments.  I  know  I  am  a 
good  speaker.  I  love  your  applause,  for  it  excites  my 
eloquence.  I  have  no  cold  or  disease  which  now  troubles 
me.  I  am  not  weary,  for  I  have  rested  on  purpose  to 
appear  before  you  in  a  healthy  condition.  I  am,  there 
fore,  anxious  to  do  my  best.  I  trust  the  reporters  will 
so  herald  my  speech  that  my  breakfast  to-morrow  morn 
ing  may  be  swallowed  with  a  seasoning  of  just  praise, 
which  I  feel  is  my  due ;  for  I  well  know  my  superiority 
above  all  who  have  preceded  me ;  besides,  I  always  aim 
to  leave  a  most  powerful  impression ;  my  wit  is  not  stale 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  71 

and  my  reasoning  is  not  overdone.  My  manner  is  unex 
ceptionable,  for  I  have  practised  some  years  to  acquire  it, 
and  my  personal  appearance  is  dignified  and  imposing." 

Can  we  be  reproached  as  satirical  if  we  appropriate 
much  of  what  the  wag  has  uttered,  as  being  the  real 
sentiment  of  many  an  apologist  ? 

Let  us  have  the  truth ;  and,  although  a  wise  man  will 
repress  his  vanity,  yet  let  him  not  covet  a  sympathy  to 
which  he  is  not  entitled,  when  his  whole  life-time  has 
been  a  preparation  for  extemporaneous  speech-making. 


WEALTH   WITH   INDOLENCE. 

WEALTH  !  Young  ladies  are  prone  to  pay  too  much 
regard  to  riches.  They  seek  showy  rather  than  virtuous 
companions.  A  massive  chain,  an  opal  ring,  a  certain 
dandyish  pretension,  is  extremely  taking  with  some  well- 
educated  ladies.  The  young  man  who  is  unassuming, 
and  slowly  makes  his  way  to  fortune  by  untiring  indus 
try,  is  too  often  cast  in  the  shade.  Yet  we  will  follow 
the  two  a  few  years,  and  most  probably  the  one  whom 
we  cast  aside  will  be  considered  the  most  useful  citizen. 
Women  err  strangely  in  forming  marriage  engagements. 
They  may  not  be  altogether  in  fault  here ;  for  does  not 
mamma,  ay,  and  papa  too,  often  inquire,  is  he  rich? 
as  if  this  were  the  saving  clause. 

An  heir  to  a  large  estate  lately  married  a  poor  girl. 
Every  one  looked  on  with  the  highest  satisfaction.  ' '  How 
fortunate  !  "  was  in  the  mouth  of  all  her  friends.  But  the 
young  husband  had  nothing  to  do ;  he  wasted  life  in  a 
public  hotel,  or  he  travelled  to  some  watering-place,  and 
the  long  dog-days  were  spent  in  brushing  flies,  or 
driving  musquitoes.  The  wife  fell  into  indolent  habits, 
and,  from  having  nothing  to  do,  learned  to  do  nothing. 
Some  called  it  a  state  of  elegant  ease ;  nobody  found 
fault,  because,  where  bills  are  paid,  and  plenty  of  money 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  73 

is  left,  the  world  will  not  complain.  But  as  to  the  real 
happiness  of  such  a  life,  it  admits  no  comparison  with  that 
of  those  who  started  in  life  poor  but  hopeful,  combating 
disappointment,  and  rising  by  degrees  to  an  abundance ; 
learning  how  to  use  and  enjoy,  and  in  the  very  acquisi 
tion  deriving  more  pleasure  than  in  fruition.  For  thus 
are  we  made,  constantly  finding  new  pleasure  with  new 
acquisition ;  and  no  sooner  do  we  sit  down  to  enjoy  our 
wealth,  than  we  find  it  insufficient  to  fill  the  vacuity. 

For  this  reason  people  who  retire  from  active  busi 
ness  with  scanty  mental  resources  are  rarely  happy. 
They  find  a  satiety  they  never  knew  in  business  :  and  I 
lament  when  I  hear  a  wife  so  urgent  that  her  husband 
should  build  a  cottage  and  live  upon  his  money  —  as  if 
idleness  and  ease  made  pleasure. 
7 


THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  GLOOMY. 

IN  the  midst  of  the  autumnal  tinge  I  walk  out  in  the 
country  to  revive  the  association  of  the  past.  It  is  not 
my  taste  to  groan  and  sigh  over  the  decay  of  nature. 
On  the  contrary,  my  thoughts  are  lively  and  buoyant. 
What  is  there  to  make  one  sad  ?  All  things  that  are 
dying  we  know  will  be  again  revived,  and  many  of  them 
will  put  on  far  more  beautiful  forms.  The  trees,  like 
our  bodies,  will  soon  have  a  resurrection,  and  be  clothed 
with  fresher  beauty.  Why.  then,  mourn  if  disease  invades 
our  frame  ?  What  if  it  should  yield  to  the  influence  of 
this  or  that  malady  ?  Can  we  not  trust  to  the  beneficent 
decrees  of  our  Maker,  who  so  planned  the  structure  that 
from  its  present  ruins  an  incorruptible  clothing  may  be 
put  upon  it  1  Our  thoughts  need  not  be  sad  and  enervat 
ing,  cheating  us  of  all  pleasure  in  the  present,  and  fore 
boding  only  gloom  in  the  future.  We  cherish  such 
pernicious  feelings  until  life  becomes  the  most  unpalat 
able  drug,  and  yet  we  shrink  from  quitting  it,  so  dis 
trustful  are  we  of  the  kind  care  which  placed  us  here. 
0,  it  is  painful  to  hear  some  Christian  people  complain 
of  "  inflictions,"  and  "  their  hard  lot,"  all  the  while  they 
are  themselves  making  it  so  ! 

Autumn   is   thought   particularly   to    awaken   these 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  75 

gloomy  sensations.  It  need  not  be  so.  A  new  scene 
opens  on  us  ;  our  eyes  are  dazzled  with  the  fading  land 
scape  ;  its  purple  and  gold  touch  the  heart  with  delight. 
I  feel  as  if  in  holiday  attire.  To  be  sure,  the  flower 
beds  are  stricken  down ;  the  broad  sunflowers  no  longer 
wave  majestically;  the  pinks  and  peonies  have  disap 
peared,  but  the  box- tree  is  still  as  verdant  as  ever,  the 
pine-tree  maintains  its  greenness,  and  there  is  always 
something  about  me  which  retains  its  original.  What 
if  I  muse  unconsciously  ?  I  am  not  sad. 

I  remember  that  flower-garden,  once  my  delight  as  I 
conveyed  the  water-pot  to  refresh  it ;  how  the  scions  and 
slips  I  procured  grew  fair  and  strong  under  my  skilful 
training.  They  gave  me  satisfaction  then,  and  the 
retrospect  does  so  now.  There,  too,  stood  the  kitchen 
garden. 

The  vegetables  I  so  faithfully  attended,  yielded  me 
their  reward.  They  grew  luxuriantly,  and  the  recol 
lection  of  those  evening  strolls,  when  I  marked  their 
progress,  now  yields  me  pleasure.  I  cannot  sigh  because 
they  answered  those  uses,  and  are  gathered  and  gone. 
My  eyes  are  now  opened  to  other  scenes.  The  lively 
recollection  of  the  past  inspires  me  with  hope  for  the 
future.  Yonder  is  a  boy  flying  his  kite.  I  cannot  say, 
"  Poor  fellow,  I  used  to  amuse  myself  like  you ;  but  that 
day  of  merriment  will  no  more  return  to  me !  "  I  feel 
merry  now.  I  can  recall  rny  fluttering  emotions  when  I 
first  let  go  the  string,  and  I  gazed  to  see  it  soar  among 
the  clouds.  To  be  sure,  I  have  a  different  stock  of  fears 
and  hopes  at  this  time,  and  these  may  yield  me,  if  not 


76  SUBSTANCE   AND  ^SHADOWS. 

so  airy,  quite  as  substantial  pleasure.  So  why  should  I 
mourn  that  I  can  no  longer  fly  a  kite  ? 

We  are  always  straining  after  some  enjoyment  beyond 
our  reach,  away  in  the  distance.  Some  are  longing  for  the 
season  of  winter  gayeties,  living  on  expectation  of  future 
parties,  balls,  lectures  and  the  like ;  but  such  people  never 
enjoy  the  now  of  existence.  Retrospect  and  anticipa 
tion  is  the  sum  of  all  their  pleasures.  Give  me  a  lively 
hope  to  sustain  me  to-day.  I  care  not  what  season  I  am 
living  in.  When  we  cease  to  be  children  toys  should  no 
longer  amuse  us. 

More  than  half  the  world  are  diseased,  but  they  are 
not  all  filled  with  bodily  maladies  which  a  prescription 
will  cure.  They  are  mind-sick,  and  this  is  a  malady 
drugs  never  reach.  Narcotics,  to  be  sure,  may  deaden 
sensibilities,  but  they  do  not  give  healthful  vigor.  I 
would  rather  do  the  most  menial  work,  if  I  could  only 
breathe  a  pure  atmosphere,  than  cramp  my  faculties  in 
devising  schemes  to  make  me  happy  at  some  distant 
period.  To-day  is  all  that  I  can  call  my  own,  and  I 
must  be  busy  in  its  sunshine.  "  But,"  says  the  croaker, 
' '  my  days  are  all  cloudy ;  I  have  had  no  sunshine  since  I 
was  a  child."  Again  I  repeat,  the  fault  is  your  own. 

What  do  you  gain  by  moping  over  your  troubles  ? 
"You  cannot  help  it,"  do  you  reply?  You  never  will 
help  it,  so  long  as  you  permit  yourself  to  dwell  upon 
and  talk  about  them.  Do  your  own  work  faithfully,  and 
have  something  ever  on  hand  to  do ;  keep  up  a  cheerful 
exterior ;  and,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  you  will  cure  the 
malady  of  which  you  complain. 


SUNSHINE   AND   CLOUDS. 

SUNSHINE  and  clouds  !  How  beautifully  they  succeed 
each  other  in  the  natural  world  !  The  heavy  cloud  which 
rises  in  yonder  western  horizon  emits  flashes  of  lightning 
which  almost  removes  our  natural  sight;  and  that  low 
muttering  report,  which  follows  so  closely  upon  it,  shows 
to  us  with  what  majesty  nature  reveals  herself.  By  and 
by  comes  the  fertilizing  shower,  and  the  little,  fainting, 
parched  twig  has  a  rain-drop  upon  its  tiny  leaf,  and 
although  the  sun  has  come  forth  in  its  full  splendor,  the 
tear  still  glitters,  and  every  hue  of  the  rainbow  is 
reflected  from  it. 

Why  is  it  not  thus  with  the  showers  of  affliction  which 
are  poured  upon  us  ?  They  are  surely  designed  for  a  far 
higher  end  than  the  natural  shower;  for  that  waters  only 
a  parched  earth,  which  will  soon  become  thirsty  and  crave 
it  again ;  whereas  the  shower  of  tear-drops  which  bruises 
our  spirits  carries  with  it  the  blessed  influence  of  healing, 
which  should  so  fertilize  our  Christian  graces,  as  to  need 
no  repetition ;  but,  like  the  varied  hues  of  the  rainbow, 
which  are  so  blended  that  no  one  color  takes  precedence 
of  the  other,  so  the  blended  and  harmonious  mingling  of 
the  rain-drops  of  affliction  should  be  irradiated  by  the  sun 
of  righteousness,  that  a  perfect  bow  should  span  the 
horizon  of  our  souls. 
7* 


THE   COUNTRY   IN   WINTER. 

A  WINTER'S  residence  in  the  country  is  much  more 
than  it  is  usually  accounted  to  mean.  To  one  especially, 
•who  does  business  in  the  city,  some  three,  five,  or  ten 
miles  off,  the  privileges  are  peculiar ;  the  cars  are  so 
convenient  and  accommodating  withal.  You  may  miss 
seeing  the  man  with  whom  you  have  business,  a  dozen 
times  in  a  day ;  he  may  state  the  hour  you  can  see  him, 
—  but  the  train  leaves  just  ten  minutes  before  that  time ; 
or  you  may  conclude  to  stay  over  one  train,  and  what 
confusion  is  made  in  the  home  where  you  were  an  ex 
pected  guest !  How  the  little  ones  clamor  for  "  turkey 
and  bread,"  not  to  say  a  word  of  the  mother-in-law, 
who,  perchance,  is  fretting  and  knitting  in  the  corner, 
"wondering  how  people  can  expect  to  do  business  in  one 
place,  and  keep  themselves  in  another;"  or  the  wife 
goes  sighing  through  the  room  with  a  look  of  anxiety  in 
her  face,  "hoping  there  is  no  accident  to-day;"  and, 
as  she  looks  out,  there  is  her  neighbor  who  has  been 
home  and  dined,  and  is  ready  for  a  fresh  start ;  and  Miss 
Muggins  has  happened  from  the  city  to  spend  the  day 
just  at  the  time  you  were  wanting  in  butter  and  minus  in 
groceries,  and  you  buy  everything  in  the  city,  where  your 
husband  has  an  account.  And  then  the  children  behave 


SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS.  79 

• 

so  when  their  father  is  absent ;  they  are  so  boisterous. 
And  when  it  is  so  cheerless  within,  as  you  look  without, 
how  the  blues  creep  over  you  ! 

The  old  flower-stalks  are  all  empty  and  dry,  the 
grass  all  brown  and  crisped,  the  vines  all  tangled  and 
overgrown  with  dead  weed,  the  trees  all  dismantled,  and 
the  leaves  heaved  up  like  little  mountains,  awaiting  a 
high  gust  to  send  them  in  mid  air  like  snow-flakes  ;  and, 
then,  to  break  the  monotony,  there  is  the  hissing  of  the 
tea-kettle,  and  the  low  kind  of  second  which  "Maggie"  is 
continually  singing,  and,  more  than  all,  your  meditations 
on  this  wise  :  "Why  did  I  ever  think  of  living  in  the 
country  the  year  round  1  Why,  for  the  health  of  the 
children,  to  be  sure.  And  how  has  it  proved  ?  '  Ned 7 
has  had  the  scarlet  fever,  and  little  '  Nell '  the  whoop 
ing-cough,  and  we  were  obliged  to  send  into  the  city  to 
get  our  old  physician  (all  practise  on  the  new  principle  out 
here)  ;  and  who  cares  for  a  fee,  when  a  child's  life  is  at 
stake  ?  Well,  then,  as  we  were  here,  why,  the  plea  of 
economy  is  urged,  and  a  cheaper  rent.  How  much 
cheaper  1  One  hundred  dollars  less  than  AVC  paid  in  the 
city,  where  conveniences  were  much  more  compact. 
Wood,  water  and  drains  all  in  a  heap  here.  We  are  ex 
posed  to  cold,  sunshine  and  observation ;  our  next  neigh 
bor  exactly  facing  all  our  domestic  operations,  and  always 
happening  to  be  looking  at  us  just  as  we  would  avoid 
scrutiny.  Then  the  children  must  trudge  half  a  mile  to 
school,  and  when  Sunday  comes,  in  what  a  state  we  find 
ourselves  !  No  Sunday-school  very  near ;  omnibus  to 
take  us  to  the  city,  but  who  can  get  ready  seasonably '? 
Besides,  the  children's  shoes  are  out  of  order,  and  the 


80  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

lacings  are  broken,  and  father  forgot  'the  memorandum' 
we  so  charged  him  to  remember,  and  Maggie  must  go 
to  church  part  of  the  day,  and  hints  she  prefers  to  live 
in  the  city,  where  she  can  attend  mass  in  the  morning.1' 

And,  then,  it  is  so  delightful  to  attend  lectures,  and 
concerts,  and  parties  of  all  sorts  in  the  city ;  to  go  to 
some  friend's  house  and  "fix,"  after  riding  in  the  omni 
bus.  —  bringing  the  baby  atop  of  your  best  silk  dress.  — 
and  to  stay  till  midnight,  find  omnibus  gone,  and  obliged 
to  accept  invitation  to  stay  all  night ;  to  rise  headachy, 
and  put  on  your  nice  dress,  and  go  home  to  find  every 
thing  helter-skelter ;  and  have  your  husband's  mother 
meet  you  in  the  front-door  passage,  and  inform  you 
"that  Billy  hurt  his  leg  last  night,  and  Polly  was  very 
restless,  and  John  has  been  a  bad  boy,"  and  to  feel  that 
this  is  your  home.  0,  it  is  worth  a  great  deal  to  live  in 
the  country  all  the  year  round  ! 

Again,  it  is  so  pleasant,  Avhen  your  husband  does 
not  come  home  to  dinner,  to  take  his  place  and  help  some 
half  dozen  lady  guests,  who  are  "  so  fond  of  the  country 
that  they  have  come  to  pass  the  dayAvith  you,"  although 
when  in  the  city  they  never  thought  of  more  than  a  call ! 
To  sit  and  hear  their  admiration  of  your  tasteful  place, 
and  "  the  lovely  spot  it  must  be  in  summer,"  and,  per 
chance,  hear  the  conclusion,  —  "but  it  is  so  dull,  we 
never  could  live  in  the  country  in  the  winter." 

Then  the  snow-storm  !  To  inhabit  a  house  facing  clue 
north,  with  a  large  hall  on  either  side  the  parlors,  where 
the  ^Eolian  harps  constantly  are  played  !  To  wake  in 
the  morning  arid  find  the  house  blockaded,  the  snow  still 
falling,  and  no  vestige  of  a  road  visible,  and  to  feel  that 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  81 

your  husband  has  got  to  face  the  weather,  and  break  the 
paths,  and  thaw  the  pumps,  and  dig  out  some  wood,  and 
that  he  must  go,  for  he  has  a  note  at  the  bank  to  pay, 
and  you  have  such  a  dread  of  protested  notes  that  you 
are  willing  he  should  make  the  sacrifice. 

More  than  all, — to  feel  that  the  die  is  cast, — that  you 
have  actually  bought  this  home  in  the  country,  and  so 
have  no  changes  to  anticipate ;  no  returning  summer  can 
find  you  again  at  board  by  the  seashore  ;  no  plea  can  be 
urged  for  a  healthful  mountain  region,  for  the  selection 
was  so  made  as  to  embrace  all  their  salubrious  influences, 
and  your  husband  is  so  deeply  immersed  in  business  that 
all  pleasure-seeking  is  forever  at  an  end. 

You  may  expect  but  few  changes.  The  hinges  will 
rust  off  the  gate,  and  the  blinds  Avill  need  a  new  coat  of 
paint,  and  the  trellis-work  will  need  repairing,  and  a 
kind  of  decay  will  come  over  your  outward  appearance ; 
but  unless  you  are  hopeful,  full  of  sunshine,  love  birds 
and  annual  plants,  and  children,  and  storms,  and  high 
winds,  and  short  trips  in  the  cars,  and  little  vexations, 
and  a  house  of  your  own,  my  advice  is,  never  live  in 
the  country  the  year  round,  when  your  business  is  in 
the  city! 


THE  FEMALE  FINANCIER. 

"  THERE  never  was  a  woman  who  has  lived  longer  on 
promises  than  I  have,  Mr.  Oldbuck.  More  than  a  year 
ago,  when  I  told  you  we  must  have  new  parlor  carpets, 
you  put  me  off  till  the  '  election'  was  over,  because  then 
there  would  be  such  'good  times,'  that  I  thought  Cali 
fornia  and  our  metropolis  would  only  be  another  name 
for  the  gold  region.  Now  look  at  it ,  —  where  are  my 
carpets?" 

"You  speak,  wife,  as  if  I  had  the  whole  control  of 
events.  How  could  I  foresee  that  times  would  be  as  they 
are  —  money  at  nine  and  ten  per  cent.,  and  banks  refusing 
to  discount  only  the  best  of  paper  —  stocks  down,  and 
lanufacturing  interests  at  a  stand  comparatively  for  the 
last  year,  at  least  short  dividends?  " 

11 1  wish  I  were  a  man,  Mr.  Oldbuck,  and  I'll  war 
rant  you  I  would  have  things  different.  Do  you  suppose 
/  would  have  served  on  ward  committees  during  all  that 
exciting  campaign  to  elect  a  President,  attended  cau 
cuses,  carried  torch-lights,  and  given  such  entertainments, 
and,  after  all,  be  turned  off  without  an  office  ?  This  is 
the  world's  gratitude,  Mr.  Oldbuck.  No ;  when  I  was  in 
Washington,  I  would  have  kept  there  till  I  got  some 
thing,  if  I  had  stayed  a  whole  year  to  accomplish  my 
purpose." 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  83 

"You  reason  very  foolishly,  wife.  Did  I  not  secure 
all  the  testimonials  of  my  ability  for  an  office  1  Did  I 
not  go  to  great  expense,  and  wait  until  '  hope  deferred 
made  my  heart  sick,'  as  Miss  Kemble  said  last  night? 
And  did  you  not  say  I  had  better  return  and  mind  my 
own  business  ?  " 

"  What  if  /  did  ?  If  I  had  been  a  man,  I  should  have 
had  more  courage,  I  '11  warrant  ye.  I  would  have  made 
the  President  pay  for  all  the  champagne  and  time  I  had 
spent  in  his  behalf,  if  I  had  filched  it  out  of  his  own 
pockets." 

"  Ypu  would  !  Well,  well,  I  did  not,  and  so  let  tha 
matter  rest." 

"  But,  I  tell  you,  I  want  some  new  carpets." 

"When  my  dividends  warrant  it,  wife,  you  shall 
have  them.  You  know,  as  well  as  I  do,  how  '  stocks ' 
stand  now  —  no  agitation  in  the  market,  no  time  to  sell, 
and  no  time  to  buy." 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Mr.  Oldbuck,  to  let  your  broker 
serve  you  such  a  game.  Have  you  lost  all  confidence  in 
your  own  judgment,  that  you  must  trust  to  him  when  it 
is  best  to  '  sell  out '  or  '  buy  in '  1  He  '11  fleece  you  as 
clean  as  old  Ichabod  Gammon  was  served." 

"  Gammon,  Gammon  —  who  was  he  ?  " 

"Why,  my  Uncle  Ichabod,  to  be  sure.  Didn't  he 
employ  a  broker  to  invest  all  his  money,  and  didn't  he 
keep  changing  stocks,  and  crying  up  this,  and  down  that, 
until  at  last  all  his  property  got  in  the  worsted  mill,  till 
it  worsted  him,  poor  old  man,  out  of  all  he  had  ?  And 
your  fate  will  be  no  better,  Mr.  Oldbuck,  if  you  don't 
turn  about  and  do  your  own  business  in  your  own  way." 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

"What  would  you  have  had  me  do  with  the  money  I 
had,  wife?" 

"Let  it  out  in  the  street,  to  be  sure; — if  money  is 
worth  twelve  and  twenty  per  cent.,  take  it  in  State  street, 
and  when  you  found  a  man  '  hard  pinched,'  as  you  call 
it,  let  it  to  him  on  time,  with  good  security." 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "  sighed  Mr.  Oldbuck.  "  When  I  in 
vest  again  you  shall  certainly  be  consulted,  wife." 

"  After  it  is  all  gone,  and  the  time  to  get  extra  inter 
est  is  gone  by,  I  suppose  I  may  take  it.  After  stocks 
have  gone  down  twenty  per  cent.,  and  you  have  lost  five 
thousand  on  this,  and  ten  thousand  on  that,  I  suppose 
you  would  be  very  glad  to  have  me  undertake  and  clear 
up  things,  just  as  I  regulate  a  disordered  house,  or  repair 
a  suit  of  old  clothes ;  but,  Mr.  Oldbuck,  this  is  not  my 
place  nor  work.  I  married  you  to  look  after  out-door 
concerns  while  I  attend  to  the  house." 

There  was  to  be  a  house  auction  the  next  day.  A 
suit  of  Brussels  carpets  were  to  be  sold,  that  had  been 
down  but  two  years,  and  the  size  exactly  fitted  Mrs. 
Oldbuck's  drawing-rooms.  She  had  never  been  at  an 
auction,  but  her  neighbor  Grimshaw  had  often  showed 
her  great  bargains  she  had  procured.  She  thought  she 
would  ask  her  to  accompany  her,  and  if  she  got  a  decided 
bargain  (as  she  felt  confident  she  should),  there  would 
be  no  trouble  but  her  husband  could  raise  the  money  to 
pay  for  her  purchases.  The  plan  met  with  her  neigh 
bor's  entire  approval,  and  early  the  next  morning  both 
ladies  were  at  the  sale.  There  were  some  bedsteads  of 
beautiful  finish,  some  mattresses,  and  a  number  of  articles 
which  exactly  filled  Mrs.  Oldbuck's  eye,  to  furnish  anew 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  85 

her  spare  chamber.  She  resolved  she  would  get  some 
bargains,  at  any  rate ;  they  were  ' '  so  new,  so  little 
soiled,  so  exactly  what  she  wanted  ;  "  her  vision  magni 
fied  every  time  she  looked  upon  them,  and  it  was  with 
the  greatest  impatience  she  waited  for  the  auctioneer  to 
-  come  to  the  articles  she  meant  to  bid  upon.  At  length 
the  carpets  were  put  up. 

' '  How  much  am  I  offered  for  these  beautiful  car 
pets?"  inquired  the  shrewd  auctioneer — "new,  clean, 
beautiful  pattern,  and  been  used  but  two  years,  without  a 
stain  or  spot." 

"  One  dollar  per  yard,"  said  Mrs.  Oldbuck. 

Neighbor  Grimshaw  touched  her — "You  are  too  fast 

—  don't  bid  again." 

'  '•  One  dollar  five  cents  —  ten  —  twelve  I  am  offered 

—  who  says  more  for  this  splendid  bargain?  " 
"  Seven  shillings,"  said  Mrs.  Oldbuck. 

"One  dollar  twenty-five,"  hallooed  an  anxious  by- 
bidder. 

-"One  thirty,"  shouted  Mrs.  Oldbuck;  and,  nobody 
saying  more,  the  carpets  were  knocked  down  to  Mrs. 
Jedediah  Oldbuck.  "  What  a  bargain  !  "  said  she  to 
Mrs.  Grimshaw.  "  I  guess  my  husband  will  be  " 

"  Did  you  know,  madam,"  said  a  bystander,  "  that 
these  carpets  were  badly  moth-eaten  ?  —  look  under  that 
sofa,  and  in  that  recess." 

Poor  Mrs.  Oldbuck  !  how  changed  in  a  moment  of 
time !  But  she  comforted  herself  that  she  could  fit  it  out 
to  suit  her  rooms.  She  was  great  for  contriving,  and 
such  a  bargain,  she  still  persisted  in  saying. 


86  SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS. 

They  walked  up  stairs.  "That  bedstead — solid  ma 
hogany,  with  slat  bottom, —  how  much  am  I  offered?" 

"Ten  dollars,"  said  Mrs.  Oldbuck. 

Nobody  bid  over  her, —  it  was  fairly  hers. 

"The  mattress  —  a  new  hair  mattress,  and  how  much 
am  I  offered,"  looking  at  Mrs.  Oldbuck  (for  an  auc 
tioneer  knows  his  company).  "Five  dollars."  —  "Five 
dollars  for  this  splendid  mattress — why,  it  is  giving  it 
away." 

Seven,  eight,  ten,  eleven,  twelve, — "  fifteen,"  again  said 
Mrs.  Oldbuck,  greatly  advancing  on  the  company ;  and 
it  was  hers  !  And  she  purchased  a  bathing-tub,  and 
shower  apparatus,  and  an  antique  bureau,  and  some  old 
prints,  and  a  few  old  chairs;  so  that  in  all  her  bill 
amounted  to  two  hundred  and  three  dollars  and  six 
cents  ! 

The  articles  were  all  sent  home  that  afternoon,  and 
such  a  motley  exhibition  was  rarely  seen.  The  same 
pattern  and  quality  of  carpeting  was  selling  at  one 
dollar  and  twelve  cents  at  retail,  the  pattern  being  old- 
fashioned  ;  besides,  it  was  so  mothy  that  several  yards 
must  be  thrown  out.  The  mattress  was  filled  with 
Avestern  hair,  and  smelt  very  disagreeably,  and  cost  but 
six  dollars  originally  !  The  bedstead  looked  as  if  some 
occupants  had  been,  and  were  still,  in  embryo.  The 
chairs  were  fit  only  for  a  miser's  garret,  and  the  shower- 
bath  was  broken,  and  Mrs.  Oldbuck' s  physician  said  it 
never  should  be  used,  as  showering  the  head  was  decid 
edly  injurious  to  health. 

Mr.  Oldbuck  came  home  at  twilight,  and  looked  upon 
the  purchases,  and  then  upon  his  unpaid  bill,  and  then 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  87 

upon  the  countenance  of  his  wife.  He  said  nothing  — 
no,  he  never  did ;  —  she  reproached  him  enough  for 
both. 

Mrs.  Oldbuck  did  not  sleep  that  night.  She  felt 
quite  sick  the  next  day.  The  auction  furniture  still 
stood  in  the  back  kitchen.  It  was  a  trying  time  for 
Mrs.  Oldbuck. 

A  week  after,  Michael,  the  handcartman,  was  directed 
to  carry  every  article  to  the  auction  store,  to  be  resold ; 
and  a  suit  of  fashionable  tapestry  carpets  were  sent  home 
without  any  comments.  Mrs.  Oldbuck  gradually  re 
covered.  There  are  certain  kinds  of  mortification  which 
do  not  prove  fatal.  Nothing  was  ever  said  of  her 
purchases  between  husband  and  wife  ;  but  Mrs.  Grim- 
shaw  had  to  "  take  it,"  for  leading  her  into  such  foolish 
expenditures,  and  they  are  no  longer  neighbors. 

Oldbuck  was  speaking  of  the  money-market,  the  other 
evening,  to  a  friend,  when  the  gentleman  addressed  him 
self  to  Mrs.  Oldbuck,  saying,  "  I  suppose  if  you  women 
ruled  without,  as  well  as  within,  we  should  be  saved 
from  all  this  trouble." 

Mrs.  Oldbuck  replied,  "  Female  financiers  who  know 
how  to  invest,  are  rare.  I  tried  it  once,  and  have  never 
complained  of  my  husband  since."  And  think  you, 
reader,  that  Major  Oldbuck  ever  regretted  his  wife  at 
tended  that  auction  ?  They  have  lived  happily  ever 
since,  and  not  a  reproachful  word  has  escaped  her  lips. 


THE  EXPRESSMAN. 

How  things  change  in  this  world  !  Hart,  the  stage- 
driver,  is  succeeded  by  Adams,  the  expressman.  Now,  the 
duties  belonging  to  both  these  departments  are  very  oner 
ous.  Nobody  fully  realizes  the  importance  of  the  calling  of 
the  expressman,  who  has  not  lived  in  a  country  village. 
Just  set  yourself  down,  during  a  season,  in  a  seven-by- 
nine  village,  where  there  are  some  half-dozen  dress-makers, 
two  or  three  milliners,  a  few  grocers,  and  two  or  three 
dry  goods'  shops ;  one  lawyer,  a  Universalist,  a  Metho 
dist,  Freewill  Baptist  and  a  Calvinist  minister,  whose 
whole  members,  put  into  one  house,  would  make  a  barely 
respectable  congregation.  But  there  is  but  one  express 
man  to  attend  to  all  the  calls  of  this  little  heap  of  people. 

The  milliner  wants  to  match  that  shade  of  silk,  or  to 
exchange  a  few  shawls  she  purchased  yesterday,  for 
another  set  of  colors,  and  she  has  an  errand  to  be  done 
she  entirely  forgot  when  in  the  city ;  and  the  dress-maker 
wants  a  new  cloak -pattern  she  has  seen  advertised,  and 
she  negotiates  with  the  expressman  to  get  it  for  seventy- 
five  cents,  because  she  is  one  of  the  trade,  and  ought  to 
be  considered  ;  and  a  great  trouble  comes  out  of  this. 
The  pattern-seller  insists  on  her  dollar ;  says  she  knows 
only  one  price,  and  ' '  Miss  Bond  "  is  a  dress-maker  of  whom 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  89 

she  never  heard,  and,  after  the  poor  fellow  has  haggled 
away  his  precious  half-hour,  and  paid  the  full  price,  he 
must  run  down  on  Long  Wharf  and  deliver  Mr.  Grocer's 
order,  and  out  into  Elm-street  to  speak  for  some  dried 
fruit ;  and  this  reminds  him  the  widow  Ellery  spoke  to 
him  a  week  ago  to  get  her  a  drum  of  figs  and  a  box  of 
raisins.  Then  he  must  hurry  to  Washington-street,  and 
leave  an  order  from  the  dry  goods'  store  for  two  pieces  of 
nice  black  silk,  to  be  delivered  —  at  a  dollar  per  yard  — 
and  the  partner  who  sold  it  "  is  down  town,"  and  there 
is  nobody  who  knows  anything  about  such  a  piece  ;  and 
then  Sophia  Blake  wants  a  short  lace  veil,  and  Sally  Slack 
sent  for  a  pair  of  corsets,  and  the  measure  was  lost  ! 

Squire  Low  wanted  some  blanks  and  forms  for  land 
conveyances,  besides  a  quire  of  ruled  paper  and  a  small, 
cheap  blank  book.  Gershom  Allen  sent  for  a  pair  of 
chickens,  "first  chop ; "  and  Solomon  Twist  wanted  a  shoul 
der  of  mutton.  Tom  Bowen  desired  the  expressman  to 
step  into  Boardman's  and  get  a  gallon  of  pure  Cognac, 
and  a  dozen  of  Champagne,  "  Cilley's  brand."  Mr. 
Wyeth  has  not  received  his  newspaper  regularly,  and 
sends  to  the  office  to  get  back  numbers,  and  to  know  the 
cause  of  his  not  receiving  them  by  mail.  Old  lady  Con 
stant  wants  a  few  gift  books,  under  price,  for  Christmas 
and  New- Year's  presents  to  her  grand-children,  and  like 
wise  to  know  what  good,  strong  gingham  umbrellas  are 
worth.  He  might  give  fifty  cents  for  a  prime  article, 
with  nice  whalebone  sticks  !  Nancy  Gerrish  wants  a 
muff  and  boa,  but  limits  the  price  to  five  dollars  ;  and 
Susan  Hart  has  heard  that  good  Bay  State  shawls  can 
8* 


90  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

be  bought  for  three  dollars,  and  will  take  one  at  two 
seventy-five. 

Added  to  all  these  items  on  the  memorandum  card  is 
—  "  Call  at  676  Washington-street,  to  get  a  bundle ; 
down  by  Cragie's  bridge,  for  a  hat-case ;  at  the  West 
End  to  deliver  a  package,  and  at  the  North  End  for  Mrs. 
Sly's  cloak." 

Now,  all  these  errands  are  expected  to  be  done  pre 
cisely  as  they  are  directed,  and  the  small  sum  of  nine- 
pence  is  considered  a  fair  charge ;  but  woe  to  the  man 
who  forgets  a  single  message  ! 

Besides,  it  is  expected  the  expressman  will  carry  about 
him  a  sunny  countenance,  never  get  vexed  with  anybody, 
thank  everybody  instead  of  receiving  thanks,  know 
every  one,  and  be  willing  to  oblige  everybody,  because  it 
is  his  business.  No  matter  how  many  flouting  remarks 
are  made  to  him,  he  is  not  expected  to  resent  them  ;  and, 
although  he  is  the  most  important  personage  in  the  vil 
lage, —  better  than  clergyman,  lawyer  or  representative, 
all  of  whom  could  be  spared,  and  not  be  half  as  much 
missed, — yet  every  idle  man  in  the  village  feels  competent 
to  undertake  the  business  of  an  expressman.  In  truth, 
it  is  an  important  office,  and  he  who  fills  it  satisfactorily, 
must  be  a  shrewd,  good-natured,  obliging,  self-sufficient, 
all-sufficient,  but  by  no  means  an  insufficient  man. 


PHASES  IN  MARRIED  LIFE. 

ONE  may  well  be  amused  at  the  changes  which  come 
over  some  people's  domestic  and  connubial  bliss.  When 
we  first  knew  Mr.  Fennel,  he  was  a  young  man  of  quite 
prepossessing  appearance ;  at  that  time  he  was  engaged 
to  Angeline  Bright.  I  seem  to  see  them  now,  starting 
off  at  early  twilight  for  a  walk.  Most  lovingly  and  coseyly 
did  they  lag  along,  seeming  to  have  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  conversation ;  so  that,  after  being  together  till 
midnight,  ten  chances  to  one  they  would  agree  to  see 
each  other  before  noon  the  next  day. 

By  and  by  Mr.  Fennel  married.  There  never  was  a 
more  agreeable  honeymoon  passed  this  side  of  the  celes 
tial  regions.  They  seemed  to  enjoy  each  other's  society 
far  better  than  any  other ;  now  they  rode  out  every 
afternoon,  and  the  old  counting-room  was  deserted,  after 
three  o'clock,  by  the  junior  partner,  much  to  the  annoy 
ance  of  the  senior  one,  who  used  to  prophesy,  "these 
things  will  wear  off  by  and  by,  when  they  have  been  mar 
ried  a  few  years."  The  man  spoke  from  experience,  and 
he  spoke  truly. 

Fifteen  years  after  marriage,  you  might  have  seen  Mr. 
Fennel  still  taking  a  walk,  but  his  daughter  is  hanging 
on  his  arm,  and  his  wife  walks  behind,  leading  the 


92  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

little  boy.  The  poor  woman  seems  to  have  lost  that 
elastic  step  she  once  had;  she  looks  faded  and  care 
worn,  and  talks  about  "  Willy's  fretfulness,  having  just 
cut  his  teeth ;  "  and  "  Margaret  Ann  is  feeble,  and  they 
apprehend  a  spinal  difficulty  ; ' '  and  if  you  inquire  Avhy 
they  do  not  go  into  the  country  and  try  a  change,  she 
will  answer,  "  Bless  me,  Mr.  Fennel  is  so  busy  at  the 
store,  I  scarcely  see  him  from  morning  till  night !  " 

I  don't  know  what  ails  the  man,  but  he  is  so  abstracted 
he  never  gives  a  positive  answer  to  anybody  but  his  cus 
tomers,  and  his  wife,  when  she  inquires  if  it  will  be  con 
venient  to  replenish  her  purse.  An  old  friend  occasion 
ally  tells  him  what  a  fool  he  is  to  be  so  absorbed  in 
business ;  that  his  wife  is  much  changed,  and  really 
looks  like  an  invalid.  This  for  a  moment  touches  him  in 
a  tender  spot.  Perhaps  he  thinks,  if  she  should  die,  what 
a  terrible  expense  it  would  be  to  procure  a  housekeeper, 
and  how  much  of  his  time  it  would  take  to  oversee  the 
household  —  the  very  thing  which  has  worn  her  down. 
So  he  buys  a  horse  and  carriage,  and  resolves  he  will 
give  the  family  an  airing  once  or  twice  a  week.  He 
thinks  once  in  the  middle  of  the  week,  and  Sunday 
afternoon,  he  can  spare  to  drive  them  in  the  suburbs. 
But  now  he  is  so  delighted  with  his  new  horse,  he  ex 
pects  all  the  family  to  be  continually  talking  about  his 
good  qualities.  The  children  soon  get  tired  of  such  fre 
quent  rides,  and  beg  the  privilege  of  staying  at  home, 
and  playing  with  some  of  their  school-fellows. 

The  next  year,  Mr.  Fennel  carries  his  wife  to  ride  in 
a  chaise.  She  is  much  emaciated,  and  has  a  hollow  cough 
now.  Still,  he  is  accustomed  to  it,  and,  as  she  is  uncom- 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  93 

plaining,  he  does  not  apprehend  anything  more  than  a  con 
stitutional  ailment.  And  as  they  ride,  she  is  weary  and 
does  not  care  to  talk ;  and  he  is  thinking  about  some  bad 
debts,  or  about  dismissing  his  book-keeper ;  and  when 
she  inquires  who  lives  in  some  splendid  palace  which  they 
are  passing  by,  he  invariably  answers,  "  I  am  sure  I 
dunno  ;  "  then,  perchance,  he  gives  a  long  gape.  How 
interesting  ! 

Mrs.  Fennel  won't  live  a  great  while,  but  still  there  is 
no  fear  but  he  can  get  another  companion,  "he  is  such  a 
nice  man,  and  so  attentive  to  his  business."  Lady 
reader,  would  you  fancy  Mr.  Fennel  for  a  husband  ? 


"AND   SO   FORTH." 

TRULY,  a  mighty  wide  margin  should  be  allowed  for 
all  "  and  so  forth"  includes.  It  gives  the  closing  zest  to 
much  of  some  people's  conversation ;  it  is  the  finale  of  the 
speech-maker,  the  end  of  the  delineator,  and  affords  the 
most  ample  field  in  which  the  imagination  can  riot.  And 
yet  what  sources  of  contention  it  has  opened !  All  the 
letters  in  the  alphabet  may  be  joined  together,  and  their 
exact  meaning  plainly  indicated ;  but  and  so  forth  is 
married  to  no  letter,  and  so  his  bachelorship  is  quoted, 
and  made  subservient  to  all  purposes.  A  friend  engages 
board ;  he  stipulates  the  terms,  and  the  host  enumerates 
privileges,  "  &e."  The  lover  adds  to  his  long  epistle  of 
proposal  that  he  hopes  one  day  to  be  forever  united, 
where  they  shall  realize  one  blissful  dream  amidst  matri 
monial  comforts,  "  &c." 

Now,  although  nothing  is  expressed  in  this  winding 
up,  yet  everything  is  understood.  The  man  procuring 
board  sees  a  long  array  of  agreeable  privileges,  which  it 
is  never  intended  he  should  realize.  The  disposer  of  a 
cargo  includes  many  items  in  the  termination  with  which 
the  owner  will  never  be  furnished ;  the  lover  winds  up 
with  a  delightful  anticipation  which  may  be  dissipated  in 
imagination. 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  95 

Whoever  would  give  the  definition  of  "  $*c.,"  would 
confer  a  great  blessing  upon  posterity.  It  certainly  is 
taken  to  mean  a  great  deal,  and  it  is  used  as  the  excuse 
to  mean  nothing.  And  yet  it  is  such  a  graceful  close ; 
it  so  helps  out  a  forgetful  orator ;  it  so  finely  finishes  a 
windy  paragraph ;  it  so  exquisitely  furnishes  what  one 
dislikes  to  enumerate,  and  it  gives  such  a  pledge  without 
an  obligation,  that,  were  all  the  lexicographers  in  the 
world  to  agree  to  set  it  aside,  it  could  no  more  be  done 
than  to  quench  the  light  of  day. 

There  must  be  stops,  windings-up  of  passages,  a  time 
when  eloquence  becomes  weary,  when  the  man  of  letters 
concludes,  and,  "with  sentiments  of  heartfelt  esteem, 
&c.,"  breaks  off  abruptly,  and  yet  satisfies  the  most 
fastidious  critic.  And  yet  there  are  times  when  this 
much-quoted  word  is  never  applied.  It  never  finishes  a 
prayer,  nor  affords  a  close  to  a  sermon ;  it  is  not  inserted 
in  a  note  of  hand,  nor  in  a  will ;  and  if  by  chance  it  enters 
into  a  long,  undischarged  bill  of  goods,  there  is  much  care 
ful  research  to  interpret  its  meaning.  So,  like  many 
good  things  which  we  both  use  and  abuse,  it  has  its  place, 
and  when  used  aright  helps  finish  up  a  long  array  of 
wearisome  details.  Therefore,  we  commend  and  so 
forth  to  all  sweeping  paragraph-writers,  all  elaborate 
sentence-makers,  all  hurried  correspondents,  all  disconso 
late  lovers,  all  advertisers  of  real  estate,  personal  proper 
ty,  and  whatever  is  wearisome  in  the  whole  catalogue  of 
minute  enumerations. 


A  FINE   MORNING. 

A  FINE  flow  of  spirits,  like  fine  weather,  will  not 
always  abide  with  us.  There  are  cloudy  days  and  stormy 
days,  as  well  as  those  of  sunshine,  and  there  are  moody 
days  and  sad  days  and  troubled  ones,  all  of  which  make 
up  the  diversity  of  human  condition.  In  despite  of  quack 
medicine  advertisements,  notwithstanding  "  the  balm  of  a 
thousand  flowers  "  is  concentrated,  there  are  people  still 
with  bloated  faces  and  freckled  skins.  There  are  carroty- 
colored  hair,  and  pepper-and-salt  colored,  and  pure  milk- 
white,  and  gray  heads,  although  every  newspaper  is  her 
alding  the  recipe  that  can  change  them  "to  a  permanent 
black,  or  a  soft  and  silky  brown."  And  there  are  chapped 
hands,  and  burned  fingers,  and  excrescences,  which ' '  Russia 
Salve  "  purports  to  heal  and  mollify ;  and  there  is  a  long 
catalogue  of  unmitigated  suffering,  notwithstanding  thou 
sands  of  pamphlets  are  thrown  into  every  vestibule, 
counting-room,  shop  and  dwelling,  where  poor  humanity 
sits  on  stilts,  or  is  prostrate  on  beds,  or  reclines  on  sofas, 
or  stretches  out  in  recumbent  chairs. 

So,  a  fine  day  is  not  always  a  guaranty  of  fine  feel 
ings.  There  is  a  poor,  wasted  skeleton  of  a  man ;  and  as 
the  wind  flows  balmily  from  the  south-west,  he  concludes 
to  venture  a  few  paces  from  his  home.  He  puts  on  his 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  97 

heavy  overcoat,  and  stout  boots,  and  thick  muffler,  and 
draws  his  hat  pretty  snugly  over  his  forehead,  and,  at  a 
snail's  pace,  assisted  by  the  use  of  a  large  cane,  he  ap 
proaches  you.  You  kindly  inquire  for  his  health,  and 
congratulate  him  upon  being  visible  on  the  sidewalk; 
but,  alas !  he  coughs  before  he  articulates  a  reply,  tells 
you  he  is  almost  afraid  he  is  overdoing;  that  he  has 
not  ate  the  value  of  a  biscuit  for  a  week,  and  thinks  of 
trying  the  effect  of  the  water-cure  treatment.  Well,  he 
needs  the  rubbing,  and  dousing,  and  chafing,  and  exer 
cising  of  that  kind  treatment.  Awhile  hence,  leafy  June 
sends  you  to  his  place  of  sojourn,  and  you  will  see  a  man 
with  a  brisk  trot,  unbandaged,  sucking  in  all  the  aromatic 
fragrance  he  can  inhale  from  the  blossoms  of  trees  and 
the  scent  of  perfumed  flowers,  and  he  wonders  why  you 
stare  so  long  in  his  face;  tells  you  he  has  advanced 
fifty  per  cent. ;  that  his  life  can  now  be  insured  at  a  far 
less  premium  than  formerly ;  that  he  eats  mush  and  milk, 
dines  on  baked  potatoes,  and  sups  on  tea  and  Graham 
bread ;  that  he  walks  fourteen  miles  a  day,  always  feels 
cheerful,  and  yet  calculates  on  a  return  to  the  city  a  well 
man ! 

That  invalid,  too,  over  the  way,  who  has  been  wrecked 
all  winter,  swollen  with  the  rheumatism,  diseased  in 
the  liver,  lame,  weak-visioned,  a  victim  to  poultices 
and  pills,  whose  physician  has  made  him  a  daily  visit  for 
three  months  past,  has  sallied  out  this  fine  morning.  He 
tells  you,  he  feels  encouraged;  that  his  lameness  is 
better ;  that  he  is  trying  a  new  cure  for  the  liver  com 
plaint,  and,  as  warm  weather  approaches,  he  has  full  con 
fidence  his  bodily  ailments  will  be  mitigated,  perhaps 
9 


98  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

entirely  leave  him.  A  fire  kindles  in  his  eye  as  he 
anticipates  his  future  well-being ;  and  if  the  hope  but 
continues  buoyant,  he  will  soon  dismiss  his  physician, 
ride  into  the  country,  live  on  dandelions,  snuff  the  breeze, 
and  bid  defiance  to  disease. 

But  invalids  alone  are  not  on  the  promenade.  Can 
vass  the  streets  where  dry-goods'  establishments  have 
advertised  "  Spring  fashions  opened  this  morning,"  and 
witness  the  rush  !  There  is  the  glitter  of  silks,  satins, 
and  brocades;  the  fresh  sunshade  just  mounted  for  the 
season,  which  overshadows  the  last  Unique  pattern  hat, 
made  so  flaringly  open  that  the  rich,  ponderous  ear-rings 
are  distinctly  visible,  creating  a  kind  of  thrill  lest  their 
weight  shall  slit  down  the  ear  and  cause  an  advertise 
ment  of  "  lost,"  in  to-morrow's  newspaper. 

Verily,  says  the  perambulator,  this  is  an  age  of  gold. 
Our  bachelor  friend  walked  in  behind  the  show  at  one  of 
these  immense  windows  which  exhibited  the  "  very  last 
styles."  "  What  is  the  price  of  this  mantilla  ?  "  inquired 
a  young,  economical  miss.  "Only  forty  dollars,"  replied 
the  shopman  ;  "  decidedly  cheap,  a  great  bargain."  It 
was  taken!  "And  of  this  wrought  handkerchief?" 
"  Only  twenty-five."  What !  thought  he,  as  a  heavy 
roll  was  disgorged  from  her  port  monnaie.  As  he  went 
out  he  jostled  against  velvets,  blonde  lace,  gaudy  jewelry, 
pointed  remarks  as  well  as  collars,  and,  in  a  fit  of  despera 
tion,  concluded  he  would  stand  the  "  landlady's  rise  on 
board"  some  time  longer,  rather  than  venture  into  the 
sea  of  extravagance  which  this  fine  morning  had  revealed 
to  him. 


SOILED   GARMENTS. 

WITH  what  care  we  bedeck  our  persons,  and,  if  about 
to  enter  the  presence  of  a  distinguished  individual,  how 
shocked  we  should  be  to  appear  with  soiled  garments  ! 
And,  then,  with  what  nice  discrimination  we  put  on  the 
apparel  suited  to  the  occasion  ! 

But,  while  we  are  so  studious  about  the  outer  man, 
how  is  it  with  the  inner  temple  ?  Are  we  careful  about 
the  soil  or  spots  here  ?  How  happened  we  to  wink  at 
that  fraud  to  evade  justice  and  secure  wealth  ?  Why 
did  we  yield  to  that  resentment,  and  thus  cause  a  brother 
to  sin,  and  ourself  to  be  the  subject  of  recrimination  1 
How  came  we  to  speak  unkindly  of  that  man,  about 
whom  we  ought  to  have  been  silent  7  Why  that  hasty 
word  in  the  family  ?  I  fear  we  are  not  clean  within, 
however  we  practise  outward  ablutions. 

If  but  half  the  time  and  attention  we  bestow  upon 
the  bodyvr&s  given  to  correcting,  purifying,  and  regen 
erating  the  soul,  one-half  of  our  bodily  maladies  would 
be  obviated.  A  pure  soul  never  exists  in  an  impure 
body;  but  we  dare  not  reverse  the  rule,  —  it  will  not 
hold.  The  physician  gives  the  recipe  for  the  earthly 
malady.  Christ  came  to  give  the  specific  that  would  heal 
the  soul  of  its  internal  diseases. 


THE  BROKEN   PROMISES. 

"  BUT  physical  ailments,  Mr.  Tompkins,  admonish  me 
that  I  am  not  long  for  this  world,  and  I  do  wish,  hus 
band,  you  would  make  me  one  promise.  I  know  I  shall 
not  be  here  long,  my  dear."  Her  voice  grew  very 
plaintive,  and  Mr.  Tompkins  was  obliged  to  hear  her. 

"Well,  what  is  it  that  I  must  promise,  to  make  you 
happy,  wife;  anything  reasonable 7" 

"  Now,  that  is  the  way  you  always  answer  me.  So 
cavalierly,  so  unfeelingly,  and  in  such  a  coarse  way.  I 
tell  you  again,  I  shall  not  be  here  long.  You  are  a 
rugged  man,  Mr.  Tompkins,  and  know  but  little  of  my 
physical  ails,  I  tell  you." 

"  Pho,  nonsense  !  You  are  nervous,  wife.  Go  out, 
take  the  air,  brace  up  a  little,  and  the  vapors  will  quit 
their  hold." 

"But,  that  promise,  husband?  " 

"  Well,  now  for  it." 

"Will  you  promise  me,  sincerely,  as  God  spares  your 
life,  if  I  should  die,  that  you  will  never  marry  again  ? 
You  know  how  many  girls  would  be  glad  to  step  in  my 
shoes ;  how  many  widows  would  like  the  privilege  of 
sitting  in  my  drawing-rooms, — those  beautiful  rooms, 
all  hung  in  tapestry,  and  those  bright  chandeliers  sus- 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  101 

pended,  looking  just  as  good  as  new,  if  they  were  bought 
at  auction.  My  worsted  work,  too.  0,  I  could  not 
bear  to  know  that  anybody  should  own  it  after  me  !  But 
I  am  going  to  a  better  place,  I  trust.  Heaven,  they  say, 
is  paved  with  gold !  It  will  be  hard  to  leave  you, 
husband  ;  but  I  know  you  will  soon  follow.  Now,  prom 
ise  me  faithfully  that  you  will  never  marry  again,  but 
keep  everything  just  as  I  leave  it,  which  shall  be  in  good 
order.  Will  you?" 

"  On  condition,  wife,  that,  if  I  should  die,  you  will 
observe  the  same  injunction.  You  know  how  many 
young  men  are  dancing  attendance  on  rich  widows ;  how 
many  who  have  lost  their  wives  would  like  to  wear  my 
coats,  and  pants,  and  satin  vests.  Now,  you  will  keep 
them  always  hanging  in  the  closets,  just  as  I  left  them, 
and  never  let  my  wrought  slippers  be  put  upon  another 
man's  foot." 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Tompkins;  but  that  event  will 
never  happen  in  my  day.  You  will  live  long  after  me." 

The  promises  being  thus  mutually  exchanged,  Mrs. 
Tompkins  seemed  to  revive.  She  procured  a  bottle  or 
two  of  specifics  for  hypochondriacs,  and  really  grew  so 
much  better  as  to  propose  a  journey.  The  autumn  fol 
lowing,  she  broke  out  in  a  European  fever,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Tompkins  were  registered  as  having  taken  passage 
for  Liverpool. 

New  sights  so  engrossed  her  attention,  new  faces  so 
won  her  heart,  new  cookery  so  improved  her  appetite, 
that  Mrs.  Tompkins  emerged  from  a  pale,  thin,  sharp- 
featured  woman,  to  a  healthful,  plump  English  lady ; 
and,  after  a  two  years'  residence,  when  she  returned, 
9* 


102  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

how  her  neighbors  stared,  as  they  accosted  her  with,  "  Can 
this  be  you,  Mrs.  Tompkins?" 

But  Providence  and  man  are  not  alike  in  their  designs. 
Mr.  Tompkins  had  grown  thin,  had  a  cough,  a  pain 
through  the  shoulders,  little  appetite,  and  great  debility. 
He  was  consumptively  inclined,  but  remarkably  resigned  to 
his  situation.  And  now  gossip  abounded ;  some  affirmed 
he  had  lived  a  wearisome  life  with  his  wife ;  some  said  they 
"could  tell  things,"  but  would  not ;  others,  who  were  in 
her  confidence,  shook  their  heads,  and  said  they  "  never 
criminated  church  members;  "  for  Mrs.  Tompkins  was  a 
very  pious  woman.  But,  at  length,  the  man  died,  and  the 
bereaved  widow  lamented  loudly,  and  begged  the  sexton 
to  see  that  all  things  were  done  in  good  order,  and  in 
sisted  to  know  if  he  really  believed  the  body  could  be 
kept  two  days.  She  sent  for  an  artist,  had  his  picture 
taken,  bought  the  finest  bombazine  dress,  had  a  mantilla 
trimmed  with  the  deepest  folds  of  crape,  wore  a  blinding 
veil,  and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  went  to 
Probate,  administered  herself  on  the  estate,  lived  in  her 
own  drawing-rooms,  kept  her  servants,  but  complained 
bitterly  of  loneliness.  She  was  always  at  church  meet 
ings,  always  wept,  or  held  up  her  handkerchief,  when  the 
good  man  prayed  that  "afflictions  might  be  sanctified," 
and,  in  short,  the  widow  Tompkins,  with  her  fortune  of 
two  hundred  thousand,  without  "chick  or  child"  to 
share  it,  was  quite  a  prominent  character  in  the  mouths 
of  sundry  widowers  and  forlorn  stricken  bachelors.  For 
two  full  months  she  wore  the  veil  down.  It  was  said  she 
was  observed  to  draw  it  aside  very  slightly  ;  then  a  little 
further,  till,  finally,  she  threw  it  over  the  crown  of  her 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  103 

bonnet,  just  as  parson  Boneset  repeated  the  text,  "For 
our  light  afflictions,  which  are  but  for  a  moment,"  &c. 

That  night  Deacon  Sears  called.  But  how  excusa 
ble  was  his  visit !  His  wife  died  suddenly,  "but  full 
of  hope;"  and  how  natural  that  his  sympathies  should 
be  drawn  towards  the  widow,  full  of  hope  likewise  ! 
Mrs.  Tompkins  was  always  at  the  prayer-meetings,  and 
Deacon  Sears  always  exhorted ;  and  how  natural  it  was 
he  should  see  the  widow  home ;  and,  when  he  got  to  the 
door,  how  natural  that  he  should  step  in;  and,  when 
fairly  in,  how  natural  to  slay,  disliking  to  leave  good 
company !  Depend  on  it,  then,  matters  were  talked  over 
between  the  members,  and  some  inferences  were  drawn ; 
but,  curious  enough,  the  deacon  had  promised  Mrs. 
Sears,  in  the  event  of  her  death,  he  would  never  marry 
again  !  This  promise  was  extorted  before  sundry  wit 
nesses,  and  they  were  all  living,  and  ready  to  testify  to 
the  fact.  The  deacon  was  a  man  of  truth,  and  the  parish 
generally  thought  him  to  be  relied  on.  One  person  went 
so  far  as  to  say  to  the  widow  Tompkins,  aside  from  this 
promise,  she  did  believe  he  had  serious  intentions; 
whereupon  the  widow  grew  faint,  and  was  revived  only  by 
sal-volatile.  Here  were  two  pledges  made  to  dead  people ; 
could  they  violate  them  ?  Was  there  any  validity  in 
them?  Grave  questions  were  discussed  in  the  public 
meetings,  whether  certain  promises  were  obligatory; 
whether  the  dead  took  cognizance  of  the  actions  of  the 
living ;  and  whether  the  spirits  of  our  departed  friends 
were  hovering  over  us  mortals  ?  These  topics  led  to 
much  metaphysical  discussion;  but  the  deacon  always 
opposed  the  doctrine  of  personal  recognition  hereafter. 


104  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

We  shall  all  be  blessed  in  the  mass,  wag  his  favorite 
theory.  Still  it  wore  upon  him.  The  widow  grew  more 
and  more  attractive.  Just  so  far  as  repelling  forces 
diverged  from  the  centre,  the  power  of  gravitation  in 
creased,  and  Mr.  Boneset  was  requested  to  deliver  a 
lecture  upon  moral  obligations. 

The  divine  took  the  ground  that  all  promises  made  in 
good  faith  were  strictly  binding ;  that  death  rather 
sealed  than  annulled  them ;  that  the  accusing  spirit 
might  so  torment  a  man  who  wilfully  broke  such  an 
engagement,  as  to  be  his  perpetual  misery  in  a  future 
state,  besides  the  disquietude  incident  to  existence  here. 
This  was  a  poser.  Matters  grew  worse  and  worse ;  but, 
finally,  taking  shelter  under  the  old  maxim,  "that  a  bad 
promise  is  better  broken  than  kept,"  Deacon  Sears  and 
widoAv  Tompkins  took  advantage  of  our  new  law,  and 
were  married. 


MODERN    TALK. 

"I  NEVER  will  marry  Mr.  Sinclair,  ma, — so  you  may  as 
well  drop  the  subject  as  not.  Do  you  suppose  I  ?11  have 
a  mechanic  for  a  beau,  when  Sophia  Marshall,  and  Sally 
Edes,  and  all  my  associates,  have  young  gentlemen  to 
wait  on  them  ?  Look  at  his  coarse  hands ;  they  are  too 
big  for  a  kid  glove  —  there  is  not  a  pair  imported  of 
sufficient  size  for  him.  I  never  will  marry  him,  and  you 
may  tell  father  so." 

"  But,  my  dear,  Tom  Emery  has  only  a  small  salary, 
and  you  never  need  think  your  father  will  countenance 
him.  Why,  child,  should  you  slight  a  mechanic  1  Your 
father  was  a  journeyman  carpenter  once." 

"  Mother,  I  '11  hold  my  ears  if  you  tell  me  that  again. 
I've  been  mortified  enough  to  hear  father  tell  every 
young  gentleman  that  comes  here,  about  his  beginnings, 
and  being  bound  to  old  Mr.  Gragg  as  an  apprentice.  I 
really  left  the  room  the  other  evening,  it  was  so  painful. 
Certainly  he  was  a  master-builder  before  he  retired,  and 
never  worked  any ;  he  only  rode  round  in  his  chaise,  and 
superintended  his  workmen." 

"But,  my  dear,  he  first  earned  his  horse  and  chaise  by 
hard  labor  and  prudent  living." 

"  And  what  good  will  all  his  money  do,  if  he  hoards  it 


106  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

up,  and  we  girls  cannot  dress  like  other  people ?  I'm 
sure,  I  'm  tired  to  death  Avith  hearing  about  how  you 
used  to  live.  I  want  to  live  well  now,  and  keep  up  with 
the  fashions." 

"If  you  should  accept  Mr.  Sinclair,  Hitty,  I  have  no 
doubt  but  your  father  would  give  you  a  handsome  house, 
and  furnish  it  beautifully,  and  do  everything  you  Avish  ; 
but  if  you  disobey  him  and  marry  a  Avorthless  rake,  you 
alone  must  bear  the  consequences ;  but  I  enjoin  it  upon 
you,  child,  '  to  look  before  you  leap.'  ' 

Sinclair  was  the  son  of  a  worthy  mechanic,  and  chose 
his  father's  occupation ;  but  he  Avas  Avell  educated,  and 
had  just  offered  himself  to  Hitty,  the  retired  master- 
builder's  daughter,  and  many  people  thought  he  had 
made  a  great  mistake. 

Tom  Emery  Avas  a  clerk  at  tAvo  hundred  and  fifty  dol 
lars'  salary, — Avore  Avhite  kid  glo\Tes,  attended  "operaws," 
threAV  bouquets  at  Signorina  Teresa  Parodi,  carried  a  gold 
opera-glass,  a  perfumed  handkerchief  and  gold-headed 
*  cane.  Avas  cultivating  a  moustache,  Avhiskers  and  an  im 
perial,  and,  above  all,  did  not  work  for  a  living  ;  he 
only  sold  goods,  and  changed  places  about  once  a  month. 
Yet  Hitty  thought  "he  Avas  divine  !  " 

"  I  should  feel  pretty,  ma,"  said  she,  one  day,  "to  be 
seated  in  my  velvet  chair,  or  be  in  the  street  Avith  my 
velvet  cloak,  and  meet  Sinclair  Avith  his  working-dress 
on.  I  'm  sure  I  Avould  not  bow  to  him.  What  Avould 
Efiie  Grieves  think  of  me?  " 

"You  talk  very  foolishly,  child.  Sinclair  has  a  mind 
and  purse  as  far  above  your  dandy  beaux  as  the  dome  is 
above  the  steps  of  the  state-house." 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  107 

"But  look  at  his  hands,  ma, — those  awful  big  hands, — 
and  his  smooth  face !  0,  dear !  say  no  more  to  me  about 
Sinclair.  Mr.  Emery,  ma,  is  a  beauty,  and  pa  had  bet 
ter  not  oppose  me  too  much  —  there  are  more  ways  than 
one  to  get  married." 

The  mother  wiped  her  eyes,  and  secretly  wished  "girls 
had  not  such  silly  notions." 

The  mother  said  to  her  husband  that  evening  — "  If  our 
Hitty,  pa,  should  marry  Tom  Emery,  I  hope  you  will 
make  the  best  of  it." 

The  old  man  rattled  his  paper,  and  pretended  not  to 
hear  a  word. 

A  few  days  after  this  the  dear  child  was  missing.  The 
morning  journal  told  the  cause  of  her  disappearance, 
and  there  was  a  very  afflicted  household,  where  she  had 
been  the  pet  and  pride  of  maternal  love. 
'  Formal  intelligence  has,  however,  been  transmitted  to 
her  parents  that  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Emery  have  secured 
board  at  one  of  our  first  hotels,  on  their  return,"  and  the 
fond  mother  is  pondering  whether  it  will  do  to  hint  to 
"  father  "  about  the  expediency  of  taking  them  home  ! 


"BUBBLEISM." 

ME.  CEPHAS  BUBBLE  is  undeniably  the  "fastest" 
young  man  in  the  market ;  for  he  is  not  only  ashamed 
of  his  parentage  and  birth-place,  but  he  is  actually 
ashamed  that  he  was  ever  a  boy !  You  never  heard 
him  quote  "what  he  did  when  a  child;"  indeed,  we 
have  no  very  authentic  record  that  he  ever  was  a  child  ! 

He  was  a  young  man  when  we  first  knew  him,  which 
was  some  twenty  years  ago,  and  he  styles  himself  such, 
now.  When  we  first  made  his  acquaintance  he  was  about 
exchanging  a  clerkship  for  "one  of  the  firm."  It  was 
more  manly  to  work  for  one's  self,  and  so  the  poor  fellow 
rushed  headlong  into  business  without  capital,  and,  as  is 
usual,  experienced  the  disagreeable  dose  of  not  being 
able  to  face  his  creditors ;  but,  having  passed  through 
the  ordeal  of  bankruptcy,  he  was  prepared  to  be  a 
"  shrewd  speculator,"  and  some  days  could  count  his 
thousands,  and  some  days  only  his  coppers  ! 

But  he  somehow  always  continued  to  keep  in  the 
fashion.  He  was  the  "  nice  young  man,"  in  the  estima 
tion  of  all  the  fairest  of  creation ;  and  no  concert,  party 
or  lecture,  was  accounted  quite  so  pleasant  "as  those 
which  Mr.  Bubble  attended;  "  for  he  had  a  most  prodi 
gious  fund  of  small  talk. 


SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS.  109 

The  fact  that  Mr.  Bubble  remained  a  single  man  un 
doubtedly  increased  his  acquaintances,  and  made  him  a 
more  popular  man.  And  yet  parents  used  to  caution 
their  daughters  about  being  "  engaged  to  such  fellows  as 
Bubble,"  and,  at  the  same  time,  they  never  failed  to 
invite  him  to  partake  of  their  hospitalities !  Although 
often  unsuccessful  in  his  financial  operations,  he  was 
called  "shrewd,"  ''well  posted,"  &c.,  because  he  always 
dashed  headlong  into  and  through  everything. 

True  he  had  been  in  all  sorts  of  society,  and  had  a 
smattering  of  all  kinds  of  phraseology,  which  adapted 
him  to  all  varieties  of  company.  He  knew  the  phrases 
on  change  and  in  the  drawing-room,  in  the  lecture  and 
at  the  opera ;  and,  by  the  right  application  of  terms, 
it  was  astonishing  how  often  sound  was  taken  for 
sense. 

He  was  always  at  home  in  a  "panic"  gotten  up  by 
brokers;  could  be  a  "  bull"  or  a  "bear."  as  best  fitted 
his  position ;  could  put  on  his  nice  white  kids  and  call  on 
the  Misses  Flambeaus,  and  converse  about  the  "en 
chanting  belle  of  last  evening's  party,"  and  tell  "how 
divinely  Miss  Popinjay  looked,  at  the  opera;"  could 
bow  and  twirl  his  gloves,  and  pat  down  his  huge  mous 
tache  after  a  hearty  laugh  with  the  ladies ;  and  at  the 
lecture-room  he  could  sit  with  his  rolling  eyes  upon  the 
fair  assembly,  and  ogle,  and  give  a  pleasant  simper  and 
a  graceful  recognition  to  many  of  the  upper-ten ;  while 
not  a  few  exclaimed,  as  they  sought  him  in  the  crowd  : 

"  There  's  Mr.  Bubble,  Nelly ; "  "  There 's  that  pleas 
ant  fellow,  Bubble,  Hatty;"  all  showing  how  popular 
he  was  becoming. 
10 


110  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

And  then  Mr.  Bubble  was  the  pink  of  fashion.  Very 
early  in  the  season  you  might  see  him  promenading, 
dressed  a  la  mode.  If  "adder-skin  pantaloons"  were  in 
vogue,  you  might  be  sure  Mr.  Bubble  had  been  seen  with 
them;  if  they  were  flowing  or  tightly  compressed  to  the  skin, 
long  or  short,  why,  look  at  Bubble. —  that  determined 
how  they  ought  to  be  worn.  If  the  dress-coat  was  short, 
or  the  frock  or  sack  were  only  a  round-about ;  if  the  vest 
were  open  and  long,  or  close  and  short ;  and  if  Congress 
half-boots  or  French  red-tops  were  the  fashion,  Mr.  Bub 
ble  had  been  out. 

But  who  was  his  tailor?  Nobody  knew,  because,  if 
they  had,  the  precise  article  might  have  been  "  com 
mon," —  as  it  was,  only  an  imitation  could  be  selected. 
He  always  spoke  of  his  clothes  being  made  in  London ; 
and  it  was  remarked  that  nobody  ever  wore  a  dickey  that 
sat  so  perfectly  as  did  Bubble's.  There  did  not  seem  to 
be  anything  difficult  in  attaining  to  the  perfection  of  cut 
ting  out  one  bit  of  linen  like  another  —  but  how  many 
hundreds  failed  in  the  experiment  to  do  so  !  The  differ 
ence  was,  Bubble's  never  wrinkled,  never  confined  his 
neck  to  a  straight-ahead  look,  never  broke  down  when 
suddenly  called  to  look  on  one  side,  never  failed  to  be 
graduated  to  the  neck  it  enclosed.  And,  whose  shirt- 
bosom  ever  sat  like  Cephas  Bubble's  ?  Did  you  ever 
see  it  ballooning  out,  or  so  tightly  drawn  down  as  to 
make  him  round-shouldered  for  its  accommodation  1  I 
think  not.  Yet  who  made  these  articles  nobody  knew,  and 
he  would  never  sell  the  recipe  any  more  than  the  one  by 
which  he  had  gained  his  reputation  for  being  a  "shrewd 
fellow!" 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  Ill 

Mr.  Bubble  is  generally  placed  upon  "lecture  com 
mittees,"  "associations  for  the  moral  improvement  of 
young  men,"  upon  "fancy  grounds,"  "laying  out  circu 
lar  paths,"  "  widening  and  bordering  walks ;"  and  it  is 
supposed,  by  some,  he  was  the  architect  of  many  of  our 
public  buildings,  where  the  finances  were  not  commensu 
rate  to  the  undertakings,  for  many  unique  models  of 
churches  have  been  found  in  his  old  portfolio.  Perhaps 
this  attempt  at  designing  may  have  originated  in  his  con 
stant  effort  to  promote  the  progress  of  the  age,  having, 
as  he  does,  a  profound  contempt  for  the  old,  prudent 
characters  who  caught  the  spirit  of  those  who  landed  in 
the  "  Mayflower." 

But  Mr.  Bubble  meets  with  serious  opposition.  He 
desires  an  alteration  in  our  constitution,  so  that  younger 
men  may  be  eligible  to  office,  and  an  "  amendment"  that 
a  retiracy  to  private  life  may  be  enforced  at  the  age  of 
fifty,  for  he  has  been  but  thirty-two  for  the  last  ten 
years.  He  has  "  thought  about  being  married"  ever 
since  we  knew  him ;  but  probably  fearing  it  might  lessen 
him  in  the  esteem  of  the  frequenters  at  fashionable  re 
sorts,  he  has  concluded  not  to  pay  the  penalty. 

It  may  seem  too  personal  a  matter  to  point  directly  to 
him  where  he  is  sure  to  be  seen  —  but  ask  any  inveterate 
attendant  upon  operas  or  popular  lectures,  to  point  him 
out,  and  it  can  be  done.  He  purposes,  however,  to  leave 
the  city  as  soon  as  he  ascertains  which  will  be  the  most 
fashionable  summer  resort,  and  if  he  finds  it  is  decidedly 
"vulgar"  to  stay  in  America  (as  some  anticipate),  he 
holds  himself  in  readiness  to  "  go  abroad." 


CURIOSITY. 

Do  we  not  every  day  see  people  far  more  interested 
in  the  concerns  of  others  than  their  own  affairs  ?  What 
care  I  how  my  neighbor  lives,  provided  he  be  a  good  citi 
zen  ?  Why  this  trouble  to  ascertain  how  much  are  his 
expenditures,  what  he  is  worth,  and  why  he  dines  on 
mutton  when  he  might  afford  poultry  ? 

Suppose  Mrs.  Grundy  docs  employ  a  homoeopathic 
physician,  and  I  prefer  an  allopathic  one  1  Why  should 
I  meddle  ?  What  if  she  is  straitlaced  in  her  theology, 
and  I  cannot  embrace  the  same  truths  as  she,  in  the  same 
way  1  We  both  live  in  a  free  country ;  let  us  live  inde 
pendently.  Paul  Pry  left  a  vast  progeny  —  his  brothers 
are  in  every  village  and  street,  and  his  ' '  cousins ' '  oc 
cupy  more  space  than  is  generally  known.  The  remote 
connections  hang  about  market-places  and  counting- 
rooms  ;  they  can  tell  you  how  much  a  man's  business  is 
worth^  and  how  much  tax  he  pays ;  whether  he  is  an  epi 
cure,  and  how  much  he  has  invested  in  good  securities 
and  bad  stocks ;  and  where  the  certainty  is  not  known, 
the  guess  always  supplies  the  want.  No  wonder  the  man 
out  west  felt  he  must  move  when  a  neighbor  twenty-five 
miles  off  built  a  saw-mill.  "  That  man,"  said  he,  "  will 
know  all  about  my  affairs,  for  he  is  a  curious  fellow." 


LIFE   IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

LET  no  one  imagine  he  has  been  in  the  country, 
who  has  taken  a  drive  around  the  suburbs  of  a  city.  All 
such  places  are  but  so  many  miniature  cities,  where  the 
same  fashions,  works  of  art  and  decorations  of  nature,  are 
everywhere  visible.  To  go  into  the  country  means  to  sit 
in  the  cars  three  or  four  hours,  and  then  find  yourself 
landed  at  a  depot  where  the  woods  rise  before  and  behind 
you ;  where  the  people  stare  at  every  stranger  who 
alights,  and  where  curiosity  is  excited  to  know  your 
whereabouts  and  your  business.  Then  take  a  steady 
family  horse,  and  drive  to  some  farm-house,  where  primi 
tive  rocks  surround  the  premises,  and  all  the  hedges  are 
the  growth  of  uncultivated  nature.  Step  into  the  interior, 
where  divans  and  luxurious  couches  never  stood,  but, 
instead  thereof,  a  yellow-painted,  hard  floor,  with  a  bed 
upturned  in  the  corner,  an  antiquated  fireplace,  and 
relics  of  other  days  in  thick  profusion  strew  the  way  — 
and  here  you  may  gain  a  taste  for  rural  pleasures.  The 
gay  routine  of  city  life  enters  not  here ;  the  morning 
call  is  never  made ;  the  brocade  is  never  needed ;  all  you 
have  to  do  is  simply  to  yield  yourself  to  the  sweet  influ 
ences  about  you.  For  fragrance,  you  can  lay  aside  the 
elegant  perfume,  and  substitute  the  refreshing  incense 
10* 


114  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

of  the  clover-bed  and  honeysuckle ;  for  a  concert  you 
have  the  thousand  songsters  which  flit  from  branch  to 
branch  —  and  the  "bird  song"  of  our  famed  Jenny  is  but 
an  imitation  of  these  real  amateurs  of  the  grove  ;  for  a 
walk  you  have  no  need  of  the  soft  and  delicate  kid  slip 
pers,  but  the  coarser-made  boot,  which  bids  defiance  to 
heavy  dews  and  scratching  sand  beds  ;  and  thus  equipped 
you  may  safely  calculate  on  healthful  pastime  and  enjoy 
ment. 

Shall  I  carry  you  to  yonder  plat,  red  with  strawber 
ries  which  have  never  been  cultivated  for  a  horticultural 
exhibition,  and  which  can  lay  no  claim  in  size  to  a 
Hovey's  seedling?  Nevertheless,  in  the  quality  of  sweet 
ness  they  have  no  superior.  In  yonder  dairy  are  floods 
of  cream  —  not  such  as  poor  city  people  pour  from  milk 
men's  bottles,  but  thick,  sweet  and  new,  from  the  glossy 
pan  of  the  morning's  gathering.  And  then  you  may 
cool  your  heated  brow  under  the  shade  of  a  wide-spread 
ing  maple  or  elm ;  and  what  epicure  could  desire  a  richer 
treat  than  you  have  just  gathered  ? 

And,  after  the  dry  and  parched  earth  has  all  day  been 
burned  by  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun,  a  dark  and 
heavy  cloud  gathers  in  the  west  —  the  distant  sound  of 
thunder  in  low  mutterings  is  fully  confirmed  as  the 
chain  lightning  darts  from  yonder  yellow-edged  clouds. 
Anon,  the  rain  pours  in  torrents,  and  the  tender  plants 
lie  drooping  under  their  homoeopathic  dressing,  like  the 
invalid  who  first  feels  the  douche  upon  his  uncovered 
body ;  but,  as  with  him,  this  is  only  the  renovating  pro 
cess,  and,  by  and  by,  the  drenched  heads  of  animal  and 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  115 

plant  rise  with  a  firmer,  statelier  mien,  to  buffet  the 
future  adverse  gales. 

But  the  most  enchanting  rainbow  appears,  in  a  grace 
ful  bend  arching  the  sky,  and  bidding  the  first  promise 
rise  to  our  remembrance  —  not  the  rainbow  of  the  city, 
where  its  varied  colors  are  only  visible  between  columns 
of  brick,  but  the  glorious  arch  we  have  described.  And 
now  for  a  stroll  by  the  river-side.  See  the  rushing,  foam 
ing,  tumbling  current — here  with  a  gentle  flow,  and  there 
like  a  dashing  cataract.  You  wonder  at  the  imagination 
of  the  friend  by  your  side,  who  speaks  of  the  fine  mill 
privilege  here  presented,  and  tells  you  how  a  dam 
could  be  constructed  and  a  fall  obtained  to  carry  so 
many  thousand  spindles !  Just  so  with  yonder  grassy 
valley.  —  it  is  so  verdant  and  peaceful,  the  birds  carol 
so  sweetly,  and  the  fire-flies  flit  so  numerously  at  even 
ing's  dewy  coming,  that  it  seems  a  cold  calculation  that 
talks  only  about  a  warm,  fertile  soil,  which  is  capable 
of  producing  so  many  bushels  of  gram ! 

You  feel  that  rural  pleasures  have  not  deadened  all 
love  of  gain,  nor  made  plodders  of  the  soil  insensible  to 
the  value  of  the  land  they  till.  The  same  specimens 
of  humanity  are  found  the  world  over,  and  it  is  best 
it  should  be  so.  We,  too,  with  all  our  enthusiasm, 
should  soon  see  the  sun  rise  without  much  emotion,  and 
the  birds  sing  without  heeding  whether  it  be  a  golden 
robin  or  a  tiny  sparrow.  The  fragrance  of  the  fields 
would  be  inhaled  by  degrees  with  insensibility,  and  the 
supply  of  our  animal  wants  would  gain  the  ascendency, 
and  the  glowing  rapture  which  the  change  from  a  city 
to  a  country  life  awakened,  would  lose  its  fresh  delight, 


116  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

and  -we,  too,  should  sink  into  apathy  amidst  the  glori 
ous  manifestations  of  nature's  curious  workmanship.  So 
we  will  hie  hack  again  to  our  busy  metropolis,  ere  the 
charm  has  faded  from  our  hearts. 

As  we  were  sketching  the  life  of  the  old-fashioned 
farmer,  we  were  struck  with  the  dissimilar  position  of  him 
who  ranks  under  the  same  title  in  the  neighborhood  of 
our  city.  Our  suburban  farmer  cannot  often  boast  of  his 
hundred  acres,  nor  yet  of  his  heavy  wood  lot ;  he  has 
no  "  sheep  pastures,"  nor  land  unfit  for  productive  labor; 
if  so,  his  prolific  imagination  riots  over  the  expediency 
of  "  lotting"  it,  and  causing  a  village  to  spring  up  in  a 
day.  His  vegetables  are  carefully  tended,  not  to  minis 
ter  to  his  own  palate,  but  to  adorn  with  their  dewy  fresh 
ness  some  showy  stall  in  yonder  market.  That  cultivated 
bed  of  strawberries  is  scarcely  tasted  at  home ;  but  children 
are  employed  to  pick  for  "  boxing."  Alas,  for  the  rich 
cream  in  his  dairy !  —  that,  too,  must  be  bottled,  and  made 
to  swell  the  amount  of  his  yearly  gains ;  the  asparagus- 
bed,  the  early  potato-patch,  the  corn  so  early  ripened, 
the  long  catalogue  we  class  as  "kitchen  vegetables,"  all 
are  fostered  and  protected  and  hastened  to  ripen,  to 
administer  to  other  palates. 

We  were  lately  consulting  with  a  friend,  who  lives  on 
such  a  farm  as  we  have  described,  respecting  board  for 
the  summer.  He  was  a  frank  man,  and  assured  us,  if  we 
were  calculating  upon  enjoying  or  feasting  upon  the 
product  of  his  vines,  that  we  should  soon  become  dissat 
isfied.  "All  I  raise."  continued  he,  "is  promised  to  a 
particular  stall;  that  man  has  his  city  customers,  who 
depend  upon  my  forced  hot-house  productions  ;  and  many 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  117 

a  time  have  I  carried  my  own  vegetables  to  market,  and 
purchased  others  less  fresh  for  my  family's  use.  In  this 
way  only,  I  have  attained  to  my  present  possessions ;  it 
is  literally  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  what  many 
would  call  the  most  parsimonious  economy.  The  rich 
pass  by  my  fertile  grounds,  and  stop  in  their  carriages 
to  admire  the  size  of  enclosures  devoted  to  one  particu 
lar  species  of  vegetable,  namely,  my  asparagus-bed,  and 
its  neighbor,  the  plat  of  radishes.  They  apparently  envy 
the  profusion ;  but  suppose  they  were  told  we  who 
cultivated  rigidly  refrained  from  gathering  for  our  own 
use  until  they  were  fully  satiated  ?  This  is  the  life  of  a 
farmer  who  begins  to  clear  his  way,  and  sees  indepen 
dence  in  the  foreground. 

'•  Well,  the  rich  man  who  so  much  admired  my 
grounds  becomes  possessed  of  them  himself.  He  knows 
they  must  be  profitable,  as  I  relate  the  minute  account 
of  what  I  have  realized.  But  how  does  he  find  it?  He 
does  not  labor  himself;  his  wife  and  daughters  know 
nothing  of  the  wearing  drudgery  of  a  toiling  farmer's 
life,  and  he  erects  a  small  farm-house  on  his  grounds, 
hires  a  gardener  and  his  wife  to  conduct  the  whole  labor, 
himself  nominally  ranking  as  superintendent.  Friends 
from  the  city  in  large  parties  come  to  enjoy  his  fruitful 
acres ;  the  home  consumption  very  much  abridges  his 
marketable  produce  ;  his  hired  appendages  are  fed  upon 
the  dainties  they  pick,  and  it  requires  no  close  arithmet 
ical  calculation  to  find  the  result  of  fanning  like  a  gen 
tleman,  and  farming  like  a  working  man. 

"Hence  it  comes  that  so  many  are  'humbugged,'  as 
they  call  it,  in  experimenting.  In  fact,  there  is  no 


118  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

cheat  about  it.  The  difference  has  been  clearly  shown, 
—  what  is  consumed  at  home  cannot  be  paid  for  abroad ; 
what  is  expended  for  hire  is  seldom  as  productive  as  the 
work  of  one's  own  hands." 

We  pity  the  man  whose  experience  teaches  him  such 
practical  lessons.  Let  such  a.n  one  watch  the  unceasing 
toil  of  the  thrifty  farmer,  who  has  secured  his  indepen 
dence  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  and  he  will  readily  per 
ceive  that  employing  others  is  a  very  different  affair  from 
working  himself;  and  nowhere  will  its  results  be  more 
keenly  felt  than  in  the  "pocket  nerved 


COMMUTATION. 

THE  word  commutation  has  been  much  in  vogue  of 
late.  We  have  applied  it  to  the  fate  of  our  fellow-men 
convicted  of  crime,  and  whom  we  would  save  from  the 
ignominy  of  the  gallows.  We  are  not  prepared  to  discuss 
the  vexed  question  and  consequences  of  capital  punish 
ment,  nor  yet  of  imprisonment  for  life.  We  are  only 
speaking  of  commutation.  We  were  fancying  ourselves 
sinners  under  sentence  of  death,  and  with  the  weight  of 
heavy  transgressions  upon  us.  We  know  we  shall  soon 
be  tried  and  found  guilty,  not  in  an  earthly  court,  but  at 
a  heavenly  bar.  We  were  thinking  upon  what  we  could 
base  a  plea  that  would  there  avail  in  proof  of  our  inno 
cence.  We  cannot  offer  any  false  claim,  nor  set  up  any 
personal  merit,  because  we  are  in  the  presence  of  the 
Searcher  of  hearts,  who  knows  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning.  There  is  a  ground  of  hope  and  fear  in  this  assur 
ance.  We  can  rejoice  that  our  cause  is  in  the  hands  of 
such  a  judge,  who  knows  what  is  in  man,  and  will  not  be 
misled  by  any  prejudice  or  false  view.  We  can,  there 
fore,  throw  ourselves  into  the  arms  of  mercy. 

But  I  apprehend  we  lose  sight  of  our  need  of  commu 
tation  in  the  day  of  our  trial,  when  we  mete  out  the  sen 
tence  to  our  erring  brother  man.  He  may  have  committed 


120  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

the  greater  transgression ;  he  may  have  slain  his  brother, 
and  his  doom  by  earthly  tribunals  is  death.  There  was, 
probably,  a  dark  chapter  which  led  the  way  for  this  step 
in  his  history.  He  is  accountable  for  the  indulgence  of 
unbridled  passion,  of  deadly  revenge,  of  a  blood-thirsty 
aim.  His  offence  cries  to  Heaven  for  redress.  And  does 
it  not  cry  likewise  for  commutation  there,  if  not  here  ? 
To  lose  a  soul,  what  is  it?  Does  it  live  in  intense 
anguish  and  remorse  until  it  consumes  itself  by  preying 
upon  its  own  powers  ?  Or  do  those  sufferings  gain  new 
intensity  when  earthly  clogs  are  removed,  and  burn  on 
forever?  Or  is  there  a  portion,  terrible  though  it  be, 
meted  out  to  transgressors  ;  and,  having  suffered  the  full 
measure  for  our  iniquities,  is  the  soul  permitted  to  retrace 
its  tedious  way  back  to  the  Father's  throne  of  mercy,  and 
there  receive  an  expiation  for  its  sins  while  in  the  body  ? 
These  are  fearful  questionings,  but  they  will  come  ;  and 
the  uncertainty  with  which  we  feel  they  are  attended  in 
the  final  issue,  should  warn  us  against  the  indulgence  of 
all  iniquity  here.  Certain  we  may  be,  we  shall  all  stand 
in  need  of  commutation. 


THE   OPPRESSED   SEAMSTRESS. 

SOME  people  seem  to  have  an  idea  that  they  pay  too 
much  for  everything,  and  it  is  a  positive  duty  to  employ 
those  who  will  work  the  cheapest. 

Mrs.  Ellsworth  lived  sumptuously,  and  her  daughters 
dressed  elegantly.  We  won't  call  them  extravagant,  be 
cause  people  who  have  plenty  of  money  are  not  obliged 
to  give  an  account  to  their  neighbors  of  their  expenditures. 
0  They  were,  however,  discussing  this  very  subject  them 
selves  upon  their  damask  lounges,  when  the  servant  man 
entered  and  presented  the  seamstress's  bill.  Such  a 
nicely-folded  paper  always  attracted  the  family's  atten 
tion,  and  having  looked  at  the  bottom  and  seen  the 
amount,  and  exclaimed,  "  Dear  me  !  how  high  !  "  they 
proceeded  to  examine  the  contents  of  the  bundle  which 
accompanied  the  bill. 

"  The  work  is  done  beautifully,"  said  Miss  Henrietta. 
"  How  superbly  this  lace  is  set  on  !  How  splendidly  this 
is  hemstitched !  I  declare,  mother,  I  never  mean  to  do 
any  work  myself,  again,  it  is  so  much  better  than  I  can 
make  it  look." 

"  But  you  forget,"  said  the  mother,  "  it  costs  a  great 
deal  to  hire  all  our  sewing  for  a  large  family,  if  it  be 
11 


3.22  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

done  ever  so  cheap ;"  yet  she  felt  herself  that  it  was  very 
pleasant  to  have  garments  so  made. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Sophia,  a  tall,  graceful  girl  of  sixteen, 
to  the  little  waiting  seamstress  in  the  entry,  "  Avhat  you 
would  charge  to  make  papa  ten  shirts  ?  I  have  engaged 
to  have  them  done  by  the  first  day  of  May  ;  and  it  is  so 
long  a  joh,  and  so  vexatious,  I  wish  I  could  transfer  them 
to  you  to  finish." 

The  child  was  sent  home  to  inquire  of  ' '  her  mother 
what  she  should  charge  to  make  ten  shirts,  with  full 
bosoms,  hemstitched  each  side,  and  ruffled,  of  the  nicest 
fabric,  and  workmanship  to  correspond." 

The  little  girl  returned  and  artlessly  replied  : 

"  Mother  says  as  how  she  shall  charge  a  dollar;  but 
if  the  young  folks  said  they  would  n't  give  it,  rather  than 
lose  the  job,  she  would  say  seventy-five  cents  apiece." 

Amused  with  a  simplicity  which  ought  to  have  excited 
sympathy  rather  than  merriment,  Sophia  pretended  that 
seventy-five  cents  was  all  she  expected  to  give ;  she  had 
hoped  to  get  them  done  for  fifty  cents.  Mrs.  Fuller  gave 
only  that;  but  she  did  not  add  Mrs.  F.'s  shirts  were  un 
bleached,  and  very  common  work  was  put  in  them.  After 
some  hesitancy  she  brought  them  down,  and,  doing  up  a 
large  bundle,  despatched  it  to  the  seamstress,  adding : 

"  Now  my  poor  head  and  my  eyes  are  relieved." 

But  let  us  see  to  whom  this  burden  was  transferred. 
The  same  seamstress  once  had  a  husband  who  was  a  pros 
perous  merchant ;  but  he  speculated  unwisely,  died  sud 
denly,  and  left  a  widow,  with  two  small  children,  to 
grapple  with  the  hard  fate  of  poverty,  and  the  remem 
brance  of  "  better  days."  They  occupied  but  one  room, 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  123 

and,  as  her  only  employment  was  sewing,  it  was  difficult 
to  make  both  ends  mee't,  with  the  most  untiring  industry. 

"  Don't  you  think,  mother."  said  the  little  Ellen,  who 
brought  home  the  work,  "  the  young  lady  thought  she 
ought  to  get  the  shirts  made  for  fifty  cents  apiece.  But, 
mother,  she  surely  could  not  have  known  what  a  slow 
process  it  is  to  gather,  and  hemstitch,  and  ruffle,  and  do 
all  the  sewing,  just  for  half  a  week's  rent,  or  she  never 
would  have  said  so." 

The  mother  brushed  a  tear  away.  "  No,  child,  she 
never  sewed  for  a  living  !  " 

"  And,  mother,  she  told  her  sister  that  she  was  so  glad 
to  get  rid  of  the  tiring  work,  and  she  said  that  her  father 
would  never  know  but  she  did  it  all,  and  she  should 
have  fifty  cents  clear,  on  every  shirt.  What  could  she 
mean?" 

Mrs.  A.  had  heard  of  such  deception  before,  but  she 
cared  not  to  inform  her  daughter  that  the  young  lady 
was,  probably,  to  receive  one  dollar  and  a  quarter  for 
each  shirt.  She  felt  that  her  business  was  only  to  finish 
the  whole  number  as  soon  as  possible. 

She  immediately  set  about  the  task  of  cutting  them  by 
the  pattern,  assorting  them  into  piles,  and  getting  the 
plainer  parts  ready  for  Ellen  to  hem,  as  she  was  very 
nice  in  needle-work,  as  far  as  she  had  learned  the  art ; 
but  it  was  always  near  "  school-time,"  and  the  poor  child 
but  little  relieved  her  mother. 

It  was  at  the  season,  too,  when  storms  succeed  each 
other  rapidly,  and  the  heavens  are  often  overcast ;  and, 
as  the  tenement  of  the  widow  was  badly  lighted,  it  began 
to  make  sad  havoc  with  her  vision.  Her  eyes  were  weary 


/2<J  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

from  continued  use ;  and  when  the  long  job  was  patiently 
accomplished,  who  could  tell  the  aches  and  pains  by  which 
it  was  all  the  way  attended  1  Miss  Landon,  speaking  of 
such  poor,  has  well  said  : 

"  We  little  think  how  wearily 
The  aching  head  lies  down." 

Long  before  the  promised  time  Ellen  carried  home  the 
ponderous  bundle  of  ten  shirts.  Miss  Sophia  severely 
scrutinized  them,  pulled  upon  the  ruffles,  next  looked  at 
the  gathers,  then  the  stitching,  and,  finally,  tossing  them 
in  a  heap,  added : 

"  Tell  your  mother  they  are  worth  no  more  than  fifty 
cents,  and  I  will  give  her  that  if  she  will  receipt  the  bill." 

The  child  returned  with  a  heavy  heart  and  imparted 
the  information. 

The  seamstress  wept ;  she  looked  at  the  portrait  upon 
the  wall. 

"If  he  were  but  alive,"  said  she,  "I  should  have 
some  protector  from  wrong  usage."  She  could  not  but 
exclaim,  "  How  my  head  does  ache  !  "  as  she  untied  an 
other  budget  of  work;  "  five  dollars  for  ten  shirts  !  I 
ought,"  thought  she,  "  to  better  vindicate  my  rights ;  but 
they  who  oppress  the  poor  have  the  worst  of  it.  Here, 
Ellen  dear,  take  this  bill  for  making  the  shirts,  and  bring 
me  back  just  what  Sophia  pleases  to  give;  but  say,  mother 
has  toiled  very  hard,  early  and  late,  upon  them." 

Ellen  did  so,  and  Sophia  took  her  five  dollars  from  her 
purse,  adding : 

"  This  is  a  great  deal  of  money  for  poor  people  to 
spend ;  it  will  buy  you  a  number  of  calico  dresses." 

"  But  mother's  rent  is  due,"  said  the  child 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  125 

"  Pho  !  —  rent  is  nothing  —  make  your  landlord  trust 
you  !  "  and,  so  saying,  she  darted  from  the  room. 

The  seamstress  never  closed  her  eyes  that  night.  Think 
you  no  unseen  Eye  will  vindicate  her  true  claim  1 

"  Sophia  Ellsworth,"  said  Grace  Eaton,  "  where  did 
you  get  that  splendid  fan  ?  It  is  really  elegant !  " 

"I  saved  it,"  replied  Sophia,  "from  money  father 
gave  me  to  make  his  shirts ;  but  I  hired  them  done  at 
half  price,  and  he  never  knows  it  to  this  day." 

Poor  girl !     Your  fan  should  be  used  as  a  screen  to 
hide  the  hard  spot  in  your  heart.     Prosperity  never  long 
follows  in  the  footsteps  of  oppression. 
11* 


OUR   BEL. 

"  OUR  Bel,"  writes  a  fond  mother,  "  has  become  crazed 
since  she  has  been  at  a  watering-place.  I  don't  know 
what  to  make  of  the  giddy  creature.  Her  father  insists 
that  she  ought  to  be  returned  home,  but  the  dear  little 
pet  is  so  happy  and  wild  with  enthusiasm,  I  do  dread 

to  break  the  charm  which  now  binds  her  to  lovely  N . 

I  transmit  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  the  identical  letter  we 
received  this  morning,  that  you  may  be  the  better  able 
to  reply  to  my  question,  namely,  '  What  ought  I  to  do 
in  this  case?'  " 

"N ,  Aug.  23,  1853. 

"  MY  DEAR  PARENTS  :  — I  begin  to  realize  more  and 
more  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  be  brought  out  in  soci 
ety.  I  am  all  the  time  in  a  whirl  of  delight ;  there  is 
something  new  at  every  turn.  Truly,  this  is  an  earthly 
paradise.  Our  old  humdrum  friends  at  home  talk  about 
poor  human  nature,  and  its  degradation  !  0  faugh  !  I 
never  desire  to  see  better  specimens  than  we  have  here. 

"  Dear  mother,  I  have  not  time  to  tell  you  of  half  the 
conquests  I  have  made  since  I  came  here.  We  have  a 
lovely  southern  gentleman,  who  sings  exquisitely  with  me 
every  evening,  and  a  decidedly  brilliant  young  English 
man,  who  performs  duets  with  me  to  gathered  crowds  in 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  127 

our  public  parlors.  I  seem  to  be  fast  losing  the  foolish 
timidity  I  once  felt.  The  blushes  which  used  to  mantle 
my  cheeks,  when  you  bade  me  perform  any  little  piece 
at  home  before  the  grave  old  squire  and  his  lady,  do  not 
torment  me  now.  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  one  here,  and 
this  confidence  which  I  have  acquired  is  alone  worth  the 
price  you  pay  for  me  to  remain  here. 

"  I  danced  every  time  at  the  last  '  hop,'  and  wore  my 
cherry-colored  tissue  over  the  white  satin.  It  was  thought 
the  most  decidedly  elegant  costume  that  appeared  on  the 
occasion.  I  only  wish  papa  would  afford  me  a  set  of 
diamonds.  He  is  so  rich  he  might  do  it  as  well  as  not. 
I  should  be  willing  he  should  take  it  out  of  my  marriage 
portion,  if  ever  I  should  settle  down  as  a  staid  old  ma 
tron,  and  bind  myself  to  one  lover ;  but  that  is  a  thing  I 
can  never  bring  my  mind  to  conceive  of  doing.  There  is 
a  great  charm  in  listening  to  varied  specimens  of  making 
love.  For  example,  one  little  coxcomb,  who  regulates 
his  stomach  upon  *•  Sarsaparilla  bitters,'  when  he  cannot 
get  a  stronger  tonic,  came  up  to  me  in  our  crowded 
drawing-room,  and,  said  he,  in  a  lisping  tone,  ( I  am 
sure,  whoever  is  fortunate  to  gain  your  affections,  Miss 
Edgerly,  has  his  fortune  made  for  this  world.  Aw  —  I 
understand  your  papa,  miss,  is  a  millionaire.  I  should 
like  right  well  to  call  upon  you  in  your  city  home.'  As 
I  turned  my  head  away  disdainfully,  Mr.  Moxon  caught 
my  arm,  and  in  the  most  gallant  manner  asked  me  '  how 
my  hedrt  stood  affected  since  yesterday's  conversation ' 
(for  we  talked  over  love  matters  then). 

"  And  there  is  a  squeaking  little  fellow  here,  who  sings 
celestially,  and  he  has  an  abundance  of  hair  of  the  most 


128  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

exquisite  auburn  shade.  His  face  is  some  '  pitted  '  with 
the  relics  of  small-pox  and  yellow  fever ;  for  he  is  fresh 
from  New  Orleans,  and  even  he  stroked  his  moustache, 
until  he  coaxed  it  into  a  lovely  curl,  he  was  so  embar 
rassed  before  he  asked  me  if  he  should  attend  me  to  a 
favorite  walk  we  have  here,  called  the  '  Lover's  Preci 
pice,'  from  the  fact  that  last  summer  a  most  romantic 
event  happened  there.  A  gentleman,  being  disappointed 
in  the  object  of  his  attachment,  threw  himself  headlong 
down  this  height,  and  was  taken  up  so  mangled  that  he 
survived  but  a  few  days.  I  have  seen  the  lady  who 
caused  his  destruction  ;  she  is  indeed  fascinating  enough 
to  make  any  man  lose  his  senses. 

"  But  I  never  could  run  through  the  detail  of  thrilling 
and  ludicrous  matters  to  which  I  every  day  listen.  It 
makes  me  so  animated  to  be  so  constantly  excited,  that  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  returning  to  our  old  systematic 
way  of  living.  Now,  as  my  time  is  nearly  expired,  do, 
dear  mother,  persuade  papa  to  let  me  finish  the  fashion 
able  season  here,  and  then  I  will  return,  and,  after  I 
have  procured  an  entire  new  wardrobe,  we  will  take  up 
our  autumnal  travelling.  That  will  be  nice,  won't  it, 
mother  7 

"  I  have  only  to  add,  that  I  would  like  you  to  send 
me,  by  express,  two  richly-embroidered  handkerchiefs,  for 
I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  lost  one,  and  my  washer 
woman  says  the  one  I  gave  her  last  week  blew  away. 
My  dresses  I  will  try  and  make  last  during  the  season. 
I  have  torn  my  tissue  one  horribly ;  it  being  necessary 
to  wear  them  so  that  they  drag  all  round ;  and  the  gen- 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  129 

tlemen  are  continually  asking  my  pardon  for  having 
stepped  on  my  robe. 

"  Heigh-ho  !  this  is  life  ;  and  may  every  year  make 
me  as  happy  as  the  last.  I  should  not  value  being  con 
sidered  an  invalid,  so  long  as  it  makes  papa  so  generous 
and  solicitous  about  my  health.  Please  tell  him  I  was 
never  in  better  health  ;  that  sea-bathing  agrees  with  me 
admirably,  and  likewise  please  make  my  compliments  to 
our  kind  physician,  and  thank  him,  from  me,  for  recom 
mending  me  to  such  a  delightful  watering-place.  I  shall 
look  to  have  my  order  fulfilled  by  to-morrow's  express, 
as  a  '  hop '  comes  off  in  the  evening.  Please  send  a  let 
ter  saying  I  may  stay  until  this  merry  season  breaks  up. 
Kiss  papa,  and  tell  him  a  compliance  with  my  wishes 
will  gain  for  him  my  warmest  love. 

"  Truly  yours,  ISABELLA." 

When  the  friend  to  whom  Mrs.  Edgerly  sent  the  above 
letter,  opened  and  read  it,  we  may  be  sure  she  very  soon 
decided  upon  the  advice  which  she  should  bestow.  It  was 
scarcely  a  year  since  Isabella  visited  this  lady.  She  had 
then  just  graduated  from  a  four  years'  residence  at  a 
celebrated  boarding-school.  She  was  not,  of  course,  then 
"brought  out;"  but  talked  of  wondrous  things  she 
should  do  when  that  time  arrived. 

She  was  a  giddy,  impulsive  creature,  just  like  an 
unbroken  colt,  ready  to  break  the  harness  and  neck  of 
the  rider,  if  occasion  required.  The  young  lady  was 
profoundly  ignorant  of  all  domestic  affairs,  although  she 
graduated  with  high  honors,  and  showed  a  diploma  a 


130  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

yard  long,  which  attested  great  proficiency  in  scholar 
ship. 

"  While  she  was  with  me,"  writes  the  same  lady  with 
whom  Mrs.  Edgerly  conferred,  "  Isabella  was  far  from 
being  industrious.  She  would  eat  fruit  until  her  appetite 
was  completely  satiated,  and  I  could  not  induce  her  to 
eat  any  solid  food.  She  had  little  regard  for  the  laws 
upon  which  our  health  depends,  and  would  sit  in  a  cur 
rent  of  air  one  day,  and  be  confined  to  her  bed  the  next 
with  an  ear-ache.  Her  needle,  when  she  used  one,  was 
occupied  in  worsted  work.  She  had  some  patterns  of 
elaborate  finish  (a  boarding-school  expression),  but  she 
never  executed  much  during  her  visit.  She  was  forever 
building  air-castles  in  dreamland ;  wondering  whom  she 
should  marry,  and  always  applying  the  phrase,  '  an 
exquisite  fellow,'  to  the  most  consummate  coxcombs. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Edgerly,  by  all  means  take  your 
daughter  home.  She  needs  incessant  watching,  and  how 
you  could  have  thus  perilled  her  in  the  care  of  only  a 
young  lady  like  herself,  I  cannot  tell. 

"  What  if  she  has  the  neuralgia,  and  sea-bathing  and 
change  of  air  are  recommended  ?  Certainly,  the  recipe 
did  not  add  to  the  list  those  questionable  acts  which  she 
writes  about.  Almost  any  disease  is  preferable  to  being 
made  a  heartless  coquette,  and  such  Isabella  is  fast  be 
coming.  I  would  not  only  take  her  home,  but  I  would 
furnish  her  with  useful  employment  when  she  gets  there. 
What  if  she  does  sigh  and  pine  after  such  excitement  ? 
Show  to  her  what,  as  a  rational  being,  she  was  created  for ; 
give  her  household  labors  to  perform,  and  make  her  feel 
that  to  know  how  to  prepare  a  dinner  is  quite  as  requisite 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  131 

to  her  comfort,  as  to  be  able  to  read  Virgil  or  French 
authors.  Do  not  err,  as  most  mothers  are  apt  to  do,  in 
supposing  her  physical  health  will  be  endangered  by  do 
mestic  labors.  Those  have  the  least  pains  and  aches,  who 
labor  most ;  at  least,  a  refreshing  sleep  will  remove  such 
infirmities ;  whereas  a  listless  young  lady  fancies  herself 
ill  until  she  becomes  so. 

"  If  I  have  been  too  diffuse  in  my  advice,  it  is  because 
I  every  day  see  the  evils  which  flow  from  a  fashionable 
education,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  practical  knowledge 
of  which  every  female  should  be  possessed.  I  do  not, 
however,  feel  I  am  too  exact  in  my  requirements,  for  my 
conversation  with  well-principled,  rational  young  men, 
assures  me  that  such  do  not  wish  for  a  wife  like  a  waxen 
doll,  that  will  break  to  pieces  if  exposed  to  the  least 
trial. 

"  But  occasionally  one  gets  sadly  deceived  in  the 
object  of  attachment.  You  may  remember  cousin  Abi- 
jah,  who  sought  a  country  lass,  because  he  thought 
he  should  find  in  her  the  sterling  qualities  he  desired  for 
a  wife ;  and  you  may  recollect,  too,  how  it  proved  with 
him  ;  forever  after  the  engagement  she  forsook  her  old  em 
ployments,  and,  in  attempting  to  fit  herself  for  a  city  lady, 
by  keeping  herself  constantly  within  doors,  and  practising 
only  upon  'tent  stitch,'  a  pain  in  her  side  was  induced, 
the  bloom  on  her  cheek  was  exchanged  for  a  lily  white, 
and  her  closets,  to  this  day,  look  like  an  apothecary's 
shop.  Yet  poor  Abijah,  of  course,  is  doomed  to  bear 
what  he  cannot  help,  but  always  hoped  to  avoid.  Many 
a  man  becomes  thus  cheated. 

Ic  My  parting  advice,  therefore,  I  reiterate.    Let  your 


132  SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS. 

daughter  be  occupied  every  day  with  some  useful  labor, 
and  if  you  cannot  enforce  it  you  may  send  her  to  me. 

"I  would  never  hear  my  child  detail  her  progressive 
steps  in  a  flirtation,  —  rather  change  the  current  of  her 
thoughts  by  leading  her  to  feel  the  responsibility  of  her 
conduct,  and  the  effect  of  her  example  upon  character. 
'  Bel '  certainly  is  endowed  with  good  natural  talents, 
which  ought  not  to  be  perverted  at  the  shrine  of  vanity." 
***** 

Not  long  since  two  gentlemen  were  expatiating  upon 
the  excellent  housekeeping  of  a  friend  of  theirs,  who  was 
recently  married.  "  But  they  say,"  remarked  one  of 
them,  "  she  was  a  terrible  flirt  once."  And  would  you 
believe  it,  the  now  systematic  model  of  a  good  wife,  was 
no  less  than  our  Bel,  who,  previous  to  her  marriage, 
spent  two  years  under  the  guardianship  of  her  faithful 
aunt. 


A  WIDOW'S    EXPERIENCE. 

WHY  is  sleep  forever  banished  from  the  wretched? 
Why  is  night  so  fearful  and  its  gloom  so  appalling? 
Why  does  the  brain  seem  to  rack  its  secret  store-house, 
to  bring  forth  vividly  all  our  buried  hopes,  and  show  us 
the  true  aspect  of  life,  when  we  are  the  least  prepared  to 
receive  it  ? 

I  had  laid  upon  my  restless,  uneasy  pillow,  the  live 
long  night.  Weary  and  sad,  mourning  in  bitter  anguish 
that  he  to  whom  I  had  unburdened  all  my  sorrows  was 
in  the  distant  tomb ;  his  shroud,  with  its  snowy  foldings, 
appeared  distinctly  before  me ;  his  form,  icy  and  stiffened, 
and  countenance  beaming  with  no  light  but  the  strange 
expression  which  death  gives  to  the  compressed  lips, 
which  are  sealed  forever !  Good  God !  I  exclaimed  in 
my  agony  of  loneliness,  is  this  widowhood  ?  I  looked  out 
upon  the  heavens,  —  all  was  peaceful  there ;  the  stars 
seemed  to  shine  with  an  unusual  brilliancy ;  why  was 
this  darkness  in  my  soul  ?  Again  I  sought  my  bed ;  I 
clasped  my  pillow  to  stop  the  throbbing  of  my  fevered 
brain.  I  felt  my  pulse, —  they  were  low,  feeble  and  in 
termittent.  I  had  no  hope,  no  strength,  no  love,  no 
faith  !  All  was  one  eternal  darkness.  Life,  why  was  it 
given  thus  to  mock  our  fancy  ?  Hope,  why  implanted 
12 


134  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

to  make  us  feel  our  impotence,  bereft  of  its  power? 
" Faith  in  the  future,"  what  idle  words  were  those  whis 
perings,  to  my  solitary  heart.  A  widow !  Can  it  be, 
that  I,  who  have  sported  so  happily  and  sung  so  merrily 
along  the  floating  stream  of  time,  am  now  by  the  merci 
less  waves  to  be  engulfed  in  darkness  ? 

Once  more  I  am  at  my  window.  Dimly  in  the  east 
ern  horizon  there  appears  a  faint  streak  of  light.  Is  it 
not  the  illusion  of  my  weak  vision,  dimmed  by  my  tears  ? 
Again  I  look ;  its  tinge  is  a  little  deepened  ;  a  dim  twi 
light  seerns  to  gather  about  my  room,  rendering  more 
distinct  surrounding  objects.  A  thrill,  shall  I  call  it 
joy?  0,  no  !  that  word  defines  not  the  emotion; — a 
sensation,  a  thought,  comes  over  me, — there  may  be  light 
in  the  distance ;  the  night  heralds  another  day ;  the 
faint  rays  of  morning  increase  in  light,  until  the  sun 
rises  in  all  its  splendor.  Can  this  scene  prefigure  what 
may  be  my  coming  fate  ?  Alas !  this  conscious  agony 
of  utter  loneliness  comes  in,  to  chill  me  again.  Yet, 
with  the  brightness  of  the  morning,  my  soul  instinc 
tively  turns  to  the  light,  and  thanks  God  that  the  night 
has  passed  !  A  momentary  calm  comes  over  my  throb 
bing  heart;  its  wild  tumults  are  partially  checked. 
Worn  and  heavy,  I  am  composed  to  realize  a  troubled 
dream.  Now,  I  have  peace ;  my  companion  again  jour 
neys  on  with  me,  and  we  are  under  the  same  protecting 
care  as  ever.  But  hark  !  A  summons  to  leave.  I  am 
again  awake ;  but  still  in  my  deep  sorrow  a  comforter 
has  entered  my  soul.  He  bids  me  look  upward ;  he  has 
assurances  of  love,  and  tells  me  I  am  not  forsaken.  He 
speaks  of  earthly  darkness  to  which  heavenly  light  sue- 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  135 

ceeds.  I  turn  my  eyes  above, —  the  tomb  has  no  tenant, 
why  should  I  linger  there  ?  My  friend  is  above,  I  will 
be  there  also. 

Thus  lamented  the  bereaved  widow.  It  is  truly  said, 
such  severe  sufferings  are  of  short  duration ;  their  very 
intensity  wears  out  the  subject  of  them. 

We  will  transfer  our  glance  to  the  future.  A  year 
has  passed,  and  there  is  a  gay  assembly.  The  priest  is 
there,  and  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride,  who  is  the 
same  widow  whose  overflowing  heart  was  bursting  with 
grief.  Who  laughs  so  joyously  as  she  ?  Who  looks  more 
confidently  into  a  future  of  domestic  bliss  7 

Let  us  take  another  leap ;  for,  strange  as  it  may  ap 
pear,  the  sudden  changes  of  life  are  made  up  of  leaps. 
In  yonder  steamboat  sits  a  man,  and  wife,  and  child. 
The  husband  is  feeble;  he  has  a  slow,  irregular  step, 
breathes  short,  and  is  easily  fatigued.  He  is  the  prey  of 
consumption,  and  is  now  on  his  way  to  a  more  genial 
climate,  attended  by  all  the  loved  ones  of  earth.  Mark 
his  wife,  my  friend.  She  is  watchful  of  his  every  step ; 
and  even  the  tiny  boy,  "  Johnny,"  the  mother's  first  idol, 
seems  to  know  that  noise  and  roguery  have  no  charms 
for  "  dear  sick  papa." 

The  captain  is  interrogated,  "How  long  will  it  proba 
bly  be  before  we  reach  Havana?"  Adverse  breezes  delay 
their  steady  progress,  and  the  consumptive  patient  fails 
rapidly.  When  they  reach  their  destined  port,  he  is 
carried  from  the  ship  to  the  nearest  accommodations, 
looks  out  upon  the  face  of  nature  so  verdant  and  beau 
tiful,  and  only  murmurs,  "Had  I  but  arrived  sooner, 


136  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

Susan" — a  choking  succeeds;  he  is  dead  !  A  second 
time  is  the  subject  of  my  sketch  a  widow,  in  a  land  of 
strangers. 

She  contrasts  her  present  with  her  former  situation. 
Then  she  was  surrounded  by  loving  friends,  and  yet 
she  refused  to  be  comforted.  Now  she  is  among  those 
who  heed  not  her  sorrows ;  for  it  is  no  uncommon  oc 
currence  thus  to  die,  as  the  invalid  first  breathes  these 
spicy  gales ;  and  all  that  remains  is  to  commit  to  foreign 
dust  the  relics  of  a  second  love,  and  mournfully  return 
to  tell  the  tale  of  blighted  hopes,  twice  sundered  by 
death ! 

******** 

A  period  of  twenty  years  has  now  elapsed  since 
this  history  was  first  chronicled.  Yet,  so  often  has  the 
sad  drama  been  again  and  again  realized,  that  every 
soul  exclaims,  "I  have  read  this  tale  before."  But 
did  you  know,  my  friend,  that  "Johnny"  is  married, 
and  the  widow  is  now  betrothed  to  her  third  husband  1 
That  husband  in  prospect  is  the  father  of  the  bride  of  the 
widow's  son  ! 

"  Time  will  work  wonders,"  quote  it  as  often  as  we 
will.  In  his  hurrying  track  he  has  left  a  deep  impress 
upon  that  household.  There  are  flaxened-haired  boys, 
whom  want  of  paternal  control  has  made  ungovernable 
and  unlovely  children.  The  father  and  son  make  but 
one  household ;  and  the  step-daughter  is  no  companion 
for  her  step-mother.  Why  is  it  thus  ?  It  began  in  a 
trifle.  She  did  something  her  mother  conceived  was 
wrong ;  she  did  not  speak  of  it  to  her,  but  to  the  neigh 
bors.  They  recommended  the  older  member  to  bear  no 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  137 

offence ;  and  she  brooded  over  the  first  source  of  dis 
cord,  till  every  act  at  length  became  odious.  Ill-fated 
Ellen  !  A  sad  doom  is  thine ;  the  children  must  never 
be  corrected  before  the  grand-parents;  the  discordant 
elements  of  strife  are  working,  and  life  is  very  dreary 
to  the  step-mother  !  Why  not  separate  ?  Because  the 
property  has  been  given  to  the  children  during  the 
lifetime  of  the  parents,  and  no  home  remains  for  them 
but  according  to  the  "  contract !  " 

That  woman  reviewed  her  life.  Thrice  was  she  mar 
ried,  and  two  husbands  had  she  laid  in  the  grave.  We 
have  heard  her  lamentations  and  grief;  but  she  assures 
us  no  hour  of  desolation  in  widowhood  was  half  so  try 
ing  as  the  daily  friction  which  now  attended  her  de 
clining  years.  She  had  erred,  but  it  was  too  late  to 
retrace  her  steps ;  and  her  sad  closing  history  can  only 
operate  as  a  warning  to  others,  lest  they  fall  into  such 
condemnation. 

The  instruction  we  may  gather  is  this :  Never  sur 
render,  unadvisedly,  your  own  comfort  and  means  of 
subsistence  into  another's  power.  Never  conceal  the 
heart-burnings  which  rise  on  the  commission  or  omission 
of  acts,  which,  if  laid  open,  might  be  forever  rectified : 
in  this  way  domestic  disturbances  first  arise.  Never 
make  a  third  person  the  depository  of  your  own  private 
history,  when  their  advice  is  not  needed.  And  last, 
though  not  least,  in  the  chapter  of  "considerations  and 
hints,"  do  not  marry  too  often  ;  but  we  are  touching 
upon  a  delicate  subject,  which  everybody  feels  competent 
to  decide  for  himself. 
12* 


DISCOURAGED    GENIUS. 

SOME  people  account  poverty  the  greatest  of  calami 
ties.  For  many  certainly  it  has  proved  the  greatest  of 
blessings.  How  many  geniuses  would  have  laid  dormant ; 
how  many  beautiful  works  of  art,  poetry,  fiction,  sculp 
ture  and  oratory,  would  have  been  lost,  or  only  have 
been  brain  cogitations,  had  not  the  bitter  need  of  neces 
sity  spurred  on  half-slumbering  genius  with  the  hope  of 
reward !  The  hope  of  gain,  profit,  gold,  has  stimulated 
more  minds  than  all  other  incentives  put  together.  The 
finest  sonnets  have  been  composed  in  attics ;  the  most 
splendid  works  of  art  have  been  produced  in  dark,  ob 
scure  rooms,  where  the  light  of  day  hardly  penetrated. 
The  first  encouragement  given  to  alleviate  poverty  has 
forthwith  sent  an  impetus  to  the  brain,  which  has  led  to 
the  creation  of  the  sublimest  conceptions,  and  the  rarest 
specimens  of  elegant  and  refined  literature.  Yet  what  is 
more  pitiable  than  the  confessions  of  men  of  the  most 
brilliant  parts  ;  than  the  detail  of  the  small  appreciation 
of  their  labors  in  their  lifetime  ?  After  death,  posterity 
may  laud  them  to  the  skies ;  but  their  heart-aches  are 
over,  and  the  anguish  of  "hope  deferred,"  or  "promise 
blighted,"  no  more  stings  like  an  adder  !  The  encour 
agement  bestowed  in  one's  life  would  have  enriched  the 
world  with  many  more  and  yet  loftier  specimens ! 


SUMMER   BOARDING. 

"Birr  I  should  prefer  to  board  where  at  least  there 
was  an  air  of  gentility  about  the  place,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Peters  to  her  husband,  in  a  somewhat  irritated  tone. 
"  Do  look  at  my  neighbors  ;  every  one  has  gone  to  some 
fashionable  watering-place,  or  to  some  noted  hotel,  while 
you  are  quite  content  to  set  yourself  and  me  down  in  an 
obscure  farm-house,  where  the  broom  is  handled  by  the 
hostess,  and  the  butter  churned  by  her  daughter ;  and  of 
what  use  is  such  a  life  ?  I  know  nothing  of  the  world  ; 
I  see  no  amusing  flirtations,  have  no  reason  for  dressing 
for  dinner  in  any  different  style,  and  for  my  evening  en 
tertainment  I  am  obliged  to  listen  to  you  and  Uncle  Jerry, 
who  talk  only  about  mixing  soils,  or  the  best  mode  of 
destroying  caterpillars,  or  assigning  perhaps  half  a 
dozen  theories  to  aid  you  in  solving  the  mystery  of  the 
decay  of  the  button-wood  trees  in  the  front  garden. 
Now  just  think  what  interest,  Mr.  Peters,  can  I  be  ex 
pected  to  take  in  such  conversation?" 

"  But  you  forget  the  cheerful  endeavors  to  serve  and 
please  you  which  Aunt  Kizzy  makes,  and  her  daughter 
Hitty,  who  offers  to  read  to  you  after  their  work  is  done, 
and  the  nice  griddle  cakes,  and  the  rich  cream  she  so 
generously  mingles  with  the  berries;  and,  above  all,  there 


140  SUBSTANCE  AND    SHADOWS.  + 

is  Mount  Carmel,  where  the  high-bushed  blackberries 
grow  in  such  clusters,  of  which  I  ani  sure  you  are  equally 
fond  as  myself.  And  all  this,  too,  is  furnished  for  so 
reasonable  a  compensation ;  the  trifling  sum  of  five  dol 
lars  a  week  defraying  all  our  expenses,  including  washing, 
all  the  time  we  stayed  in  this  farm-house." 

"Ah!  there's  the  secret,"  continued  Mrs.  Peters; 
"  the  everlasting  scarcity  of  money  makes  this  place  so 
desirable  to  you.  Why  don't  you  make  this  excuse  when 
you  are  besieged  to  give  for  political  purposes  ?  For  my 
part,  I  should  prefer  to  stay  half  as  long,  and  be  able  to 
tell,  when  I  returned,  that  I  had  seen  somebody.  I  don't 
care  so  much  about  the  salubrious  air,  nor  the  fine  scenery, 
nor  the  rich  cream  of  which  Mrs.  Hobbs  is  so  liberal ;  I 
should  prefer  to  be  where  I  could  see  distinguished  peo 
ple  —  genteel  women,  who  manage  to  get  at  their  hus 
bands'  purses  and  make  a  figure  in  the  world.  Farm 
house  rusticity  does  not  suit  my  taste,  and  I  won't  conceal 
the  fact  any  longer." 

"  But  I  have  already  written  Uncle  Jerry,  to  know  if 
they  would  be  pleased  to  receive  us  another  summer  upon 
the  same  terms  as  the  last." 

"I  hope  you  mentioned  that  to  re-carpet  our  chamber 
would  be  indispensable ;  and  instead  of  those  old  braid 
ed  mats  there  must  be  a  nice  rug ;  and,  for  my  part, 
I  shall  insist  upon  a  thicker  mattress.  There  is  no  use 
in  paying  one's  money  for  nothing." 

And  now  we  will  leave  Mrs.  Peters  to  do  battle  with 
a  vexatious  mosquito,  and  her  husband  to  reconcile  hei 
to  rustic  simplicity,  while  we  take  a  peep  into  the  sum 
mer  quarters  among  the  green  hills  of  Vermont.  It  is 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  141 

a  charming  location.  The  farm-house  is  at  the  top  of 
the  hill,  and  overlooks  one  of  the  most  commanding 
views,  dotted  with  neighboring  farm-houses,  long  fields  of 
waving  corn,  and  now  and  then  patches  of  heavy  red  and 
white  clover,  which  imparts  a  fragrancy  to  the  air  and  is 
enough  to  fill  the  heart  of  a  city  recluse  with  ecstatic  joy, 
notwithstanding  Mrs.  Peters's  dissatisfaction. 

But  there  is  a  discussion  going  on.  Hitty  is  the 
amanuensis,  and  sits  biting  her  pen,  awaiting  orders  what 
to  transfer  to  paper.  It  appears  that  a  day  or  two  before 
Mr.  Peters  sent  his  request,  Judge  Conley  was  travelling 
through  this  part  of  the  country,  and  feeling  the  need 
of  the  refreshing  mountain  breezes,  he  had  inquired 
whether  he  could  be  received  into  any  farm-house  in  the 
immediate  vicinity,  and  an  application  was  made  to  Mr. 
Hobbs,  the  very  person  with  whom  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peters 
had  boarded. 

The  judge  was  a  widower;  a  man  of  wealth,  but  an 
admirer  of  nature.  He  sketched  some  ;  he  wished  for 
retirement ;  was  liberal  in  his  offers,  to  remunerate  our 
friends,  offering  the  same  amount  for  himself  as  both 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peters  paid ;  and  as  he  desired  no  change  of 
style,  Mr.  Hobbs  was  disposed  to  receive  him.  And  now 
came  the  question  whether  the  Peters  would  be  satisfied 
with  smaller  accommodations,  and  whether,  moreover, 
they  really  wanted  them  on  any  consideration ;  for  it  was 
apparent  to  people  of  such  good  common  sense,  that  Mrs. 
Peters'  element  lay  in  more  fashionable  society ;  so  after 
a  full  discussion  it  was  concluded  that  they  could  not  re 
ceive  the  above  couple,  and  Hitty  was  designated  to  put 


142  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

it  in  proper  phraseology;  which,  with  her  good  education, 
was  no  difficult  task. 

Upon  receiving  the  reply,  it  was  indeed  a  wonder  to 
the  superficial  Mrs.  Peters  how  a  farmer's  daughter  could 
dictate  such  a  delightful  note.  "I  am  sure/'  said  she, 
"  I  never  saw  Hitty  use  a  pen,  hut  I  always  knew  she 
had  studied  grammar,  and  I  have  often  wished,  Mr. 
Peters,  we  had  treated  the  girl  with  more  civility  when 
she  came  to  the  city  last  autumn ;  but  my  heart  is  so 
estranged  from  country  cousins,  I  acted  naturally." 

"  And  so,  wife,  after  all,  we  cannot  board  in  our  Green 
Mountain  State  —  now  where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

Mrs.  Peters  immediately  suggested  advertising  in  the 
evening  papers.  It  was  late  in  the  season ;  all  the  fashion 
able  quarters  were  occupied ;  but  in  a  few  days  she  re 
ceived  a  statement  of  terms  from  the  landlord  of  a  cele 
brated  hotel,  that  a  small,  unoccupied  chamber  was  vacant, 
with  a  privilege  in  the  common  parlor,  which  could  be 
improved  at  the  rate  of  twenty  dollars  per  week  ;  and  Mr. 
Peters  determined  to-  try  the  experiment  of  "  genteel 
hoarding." 

Mrs.  Peters  was  in  ecstasy;  her  satins,  silks  and  bareges 
were  refitted  by  the  last  fashion-plate,  and  she  was  soon 
in  free  and  easy  conversation  with  the  Joneses,  the  Hills, 
and  the  Gills  ;  but  she  always  scrupulously  concealed  the 
fact  that  she  had  passed  her  two  last  summers  at  the 
farm-house.  She  was  careful  never  to  introduce  her 
daughter  Clarinda,  who  was  at  a  boarding-school,  to 
Hitty  Hobbs ;  and  so  the  daughter  had  formed  an  idea  of 
Miss  Hobbs,  as  some  awkward  Green  Mountain  hoyden, 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  143 

who  knew  only  how  to  do  rough  work,  and  would  shame 
a  city  maiden  by  contact. 

Mrs.  Peters,  however,  in  her  new  home,  did  not  find 
"  genteel  society  "  so  comfortable  as  she  expected.  There 
were  cliques  and  parties ;  there  were  jealousies,  and  envy, 
and  distrust.  Mr.  Peters  was  known  as  the  tried  hus 
band,  and  sundry  wives  despised  in  others  just  what  they 
were  guilty  of  being  themselves.  The  small  chamber 
they  occupied  was  filled  with  uncomfortable  occupants ; 
the  buzzing  of  flies,  the  whizzing  of  mosquitoes,  and  the 
glaring  blaze  of  the  sun,  compelled  her  to  draw  a  com 
parison  between  that  large,  neat  room  she  occupied  in  the 
farm-house,  where  the  eight-day  clock  ticked  in  the  cor 
ner,  and  fresh  bouquets  appeared  on  the  mantel  shelf. 
Yet  a  month's  board  there  cost  no  more  than  a  week  here 
—  but  gentility  made  the  difference. 

At  the  close  of  a  sultry  day  towards  autumn,  the  busy 
rumor  run  the  rounds  that  a  newly-married  couple,  of 
distinguished  notoriety,  had  arrived,  and  would  appear  at 
table.  Expectation  was  on  tiptoe,  and  the  greatest  prep 
arations  were  made  for  sight-seeing,  when,  lo,  at  the 
head  of  the  table  appeared  Judge  Conley  and  "  she  that 
was  Hitty  Hobbs!" 

Mrs.  Peters  could  not  control  herself.  She  ran  and 
saluted  the  bride  as  her  most  intimate  friend ;  she  wel 
comed  her ;  she  expressed  so  much  regret  at  not  passing 
the  present  summer  at  her  father's  house ;  she  should 
have  been  so  delighted  with  Judge  Conley's  society ;  and 
that  same  evening  it  was  proposed  they  should  ride  over 
to  the  seminary  to  be  introduced  to  her  daughter 
Clarinda. 


144  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

Mrs.  Conley  did  not,  however,  accept  such  attentions 
at  this  time,  when  she  did  not  need  them.  She  plainly 
added,  with  the  refusal,  "  Mrs.  Peters,  my  marriage  has 
not  deprived  me  of  my  original  identity.  When  I  visit 
ed  you  as  Hitty  Hobbs,  I  was  only  a  green  country  girl ; 
my  present  position  has  added  nothing  to  my  worth  of 
character  ;  if  I  can  ever  oblige  you  I  shall  be  happy  to 
do  so,  but  I  cannot  accept  your  present  civilities." 

Mrs.  Peters  was  so  chagrined  that  she  left  her  board 
ing-house  the  next  day  ;  but  she  was  never  after  ashamed 
to  acknowledge  that  her  most  agreeable  summer  residence 
was  at  the  mansion  of  Uncle  Jerry  Hobbs. 

Mr.  Peters  had  no  difficulty  in  inducing  her  to  take 
any  room  she  might  obtain  with  her  Green  Mountain 
friends  the  next  summer.  And  although  Mrs.  Conley 
spent  her  summers  still  at  her  father's,  yet  she  taught 
Mrs.  Peters  such  a  salutary  lesson  in  her  daily  courteous 
conduct,  that  she  was  never  after  heard  to  complain  of 
rustic  simplicity,  nor  did  she  again  envy  those  who  were 
cooped  up  in  genteel  boarding-houses.  By  degrees  she 
learned  to  draw  the  distinction  between  the  artificial  and 
the  real,  and  though  often  led  to  feel  the  effects  of  a  super 
ficial  education  and  misdirected  taste,  yet  she  never  again 
manifested  the  foolish  airs  which  an  ill-bred  lady  is  sure 
to  assume  when  she  departs  from  her  true  position.  Mrs. 
Peters  did  improve,  and  is  now  known  as  a  quiet  and 
interesting  women,  shoAying  how  good  sense  can  triumph 
over  a  vain  mind. 


A  "GENUINE  WIDOWER." 


THE  first  deep  shadow  that  ever  rested  upon  Henry 
Herbert's  home  was  cast  over  it  by  the  loss  of  his  affec 
tionate  and  devoted  wife.  It  was  indeed  to  him  one  of 
those  mysterious  dispensations,  the  meaning  of  which  we 
know  not  now ;  for  there  she  stood  at  the  domestic  fire 
side,  idolized  by  her  husband,  and  seemingly  perfectly 
indispensable  to  her  two  children,  who  were  just  at  the 
ages  to  demand  her  constant  solicitude.  Such  a  loss 
seems  always  doubly  painful  to  be  borne  by  the  father 
when  the  children  are  quite  insensible  of  their  heavy 
bereavement ;  and  Herbert  never  felt  it  more  intensely 
than  when  contemplating  the  little  volatile  movements  of 
his  daughter  Grace,  who  stood  arranging  a  bunch  of  nat 
ural  flowers  to  make  a  garland  for  her  mother's  grave. 
True,  the  child  wept,  and  called  to  her  dear  mother,  as 
if  invoking  an  ascending  spirit  in  its  upward  flight ;  but 
then  she  dried  her  tears,  and  stood  before  her  mirror 
half  an  hour  after,  parting  her  auburn  locks,  and  rolling 
over  her  curls,  so  as  to  produce  a  pleasing  effect  —  for 
girls  at  ten  years  of  age  are  not  altogether  insensible  to 
the  budding  charms  which  belong  to  that  period ;  and 
young  Arthur  Herbert,  who  was  two  years  older  than 
Grace,  had  learned  to  put  on  his  cap  quite  jauntily,  and 
13 


14(5  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

to  exhibit  some  marks  of  precocity,  which  onlj  made  it 
more  apparent  to  others  than  himself  how  much  he 
needed  the  moulding  influences  of  a  judicious  mother  to 
control  his  too-ripened  propensities  to  manhood.  It  was 
a  dark  day,  therefore,  when  that  wife  and  mother  was 
borne  forever  from  those  loved  objects  for  whom  she  had 
lived,  and  prayed,  and  sacrificed  so  much,  and  to  whom 
her  husband  still  turned  as  if  she  were  even  now  a 
ministering  angel,  hoping  by  her  unseen  and  gentle  in 
fluences  to  be  still  directed.  If  it  were  a  mere  fancy, 
who  would  wish  to  dislodge  it  from  such  a  troubled 
breast  1  But  what  was  to  be  done  with  this  dependent 
household  1 

Mrs.  Herbert  was  most  unexpectedly  taken  from  a 
scene  of  labor  and  care  over  which  her  supervision  was 
supreme.  If  her  husband  was  perplexed,  she  was  his 
comforter  ;  if  he  was  sick,  she  was  his  nurse  ;  if  he  was 
dejected,  she  was  his  sun ;  in  fine,  one  who  smoothed  all 
the  thorny  experience  of  man's  troubled  life,  and  upon 
whom  he  always  leaned  and  sought  counsel,  assured  that 
only  words  of  wisdom  would  direct  him.  Of  course,  the 
faithful  discharge  of  the  maternal  relation  was  not  want 
ing  ;  and  while  the  feeling  of  desolation  bore  so  sadly 
upon  Henry  Herbert's  heart,  let  us  hear  the  first  letter 
he  dictated  to  a  very  dear  friend  after  his  severe  afflic 
tion. 

"Mr  DEAR  ANNA  : — I  can  never  express  to  you  in 
language  the  painful  sense  of  loss  which  everywhere 
meets  me  since  my  beloved  Lizzie  has  gone  from  my 
aide.  Savor  was  it  more  intensely  realized  than  the  first 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  147 

morning  our  little  family  group  ranged  ourselves  around 
the  breakfast-table.  She  who  was  ever  the  presiding 
genius  at  that  board,  whose  smile  always  made  the  most 
lowering  day  open  propitiously  and  hopefully,  was  not 
there ;  but,  instead,  a  pert  young  housekeeper  occupied 
her  chair,  and  by  her  attempts  at  affability  and  affected 
good-humor  strove  to  dissipate  the  sadness  of  our  counte 
nances.  Perhaps  it  was  a  kind  act,  well  intended,  but  I 
could  not  bear  it ;  my  coffee  remained  untasted,  my  roll 
lay  untouched  on  my  plate.  The  children,  of  course, 
partook  of  my  emotion,  and  the  housekeeper,  being  not 
of  any  too  sympathetic  turn  of  mind,  began  to  chide  us. 
'Why,'  said  she,  'Mr.  Herbert,  do  you  think  nobody 
ever  buried  a  friend  but  yourself?  Young  as  I  am,  I 
have  lost  a  husband  ;  but  I  was  led  by  the  grace  of  God 
to  feel  it  was  all  right.  If  I  had  yielded  to  the  pressure 
of  the  calamity,  what  would  have  become  of  my  chil 
dren  ?  No,  sir,  I  immediately  summoned  my  energies, 
broke  up  housekeeping,  put  out  my  children  to  board, 
secured  a  situation  for  myself,  and  determined  to  look 
beyond  the  cloudy  aspect.  I  at  length  succeeded,  and 
you  see  the  cheerful  acquiescence  I  have  attained.  Mr. 
Herbert,  you  still  have  plenty  of  means  to  supply  their 
wants,  and  yet  seem  repining  and  unhappy.' 

"  There  was  a  truth  here  which  Mrs.  Agnew  pre 
sented,  but  it,did  not  take  hold  of  me  as  if  uttered  in  a 
sympathizing  spirit.  I  wondered  she  dared  express  her 
self  so  freely.  I  felt  her  husband  was  never  to  her  what 
my  wife  had  been  to  me.  It  was  too  much  ;  and  when 
Maggy,  our  old  trusty  domestic,  entered  my  room 
soon  after,  with  a  deep  sigh  and  said,  '  0,  Mr.  Herbert, 


148  SUBSTANCE   AND  SHADOWS. 

we  have  indeed  met  with  a  sad  loss,  and  I  do  not  feel  as 
if  I  can  stay  with  you  under  this  new  mistress,'  it  woke 
up  a  tide  of  feeling,  perfectly  irresistible,  and  servant 
and  master  wept  together.  Mrs.  Agnew  is  not  a  pre 
possessing  woman  in  her  manners.  Maggy  says  sjie  has 
already  dictated  very  unwisely  to  her,  and  as  they  have 
had  some  slight  altercation  she  is  about  to  leave." 

And  now,  if  we  will  follow  the  journal  of  this  dis 
tressed  widower,  we  shall  have  before  us  an  exact  picture 
of  human  nature  in  its  frequent  manifestations. 

"  June  7th.  It  is  now  a  month  since  dear  Lizzie  left 
me.  I  begin  to  regain  my  composure,  but  I  am  terribly 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  loneliness.  A  thousand  ob 
jects  of  interest,  upon  which  she  daily  looked,  tend  to 
keep  her  continually  in  my  thoughts.  There  is  her 
writing-desk ;  the  unfinished  manuscripts  lay  upon  the 
table ;  a  note  addressed  to  a  friend,  but  owing  to  some 
circumstance  never  sent  to  her ;  an  unfinished  piece  of 
fancy-work  kept  for  a  stray  hour's  amusement ;  her 
books,  her  pictures  —  indeed,  everywhere  the  mute  ob 
jects  which  her  eyes  or  fingers  rested  upon.  And  where 
is  she  now  1  conies  to  me  with  appalling  force.  Shall 
we  meet  again  1 

"  July  9th.  It  is  recommended  by  my  friends  that  I 
shall  surrender  housekeeping.  Mrs.  Agnew  is  con 
stantly  troubled  with  her  servants,  the  children  have 
grown  very  restless  under  her  management,  and  Arthur 
refuses  to  obey  her  at  all.  It  is  thought  I  had  better 
send  the  children  to  some  good  boarding-school,  and  find 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  149 

some  home  for  myself  where  I  shall  be  subject  to  less 
perplexity,  and  sooner  regain  my  former  cheerfulness. 

"  July  20th.  The  decision  is  made,  and  I  have  been 
gathering  all  the  relics  of  dear  Lizzie's  handiwork  for  her 
daughter  Grace  to  preserve  as  a  precious  legacy.  The 
dear  children  are  at  a  well-recommended  school,  and  I 
take  lodgings  to-morrow  in  a  public  house.  It  is 
thought  I  shall  be  more  in  society  in  such  a  place,  and 
wear  off  the  effects  of  my  great  loss.  But  the  idea  of 
quitting  a  home  where  I  have  enjoyed  the  most  exquisite 
pleasures,  where  a  holy  charm  seems  to  pervade  even  the 
apartments  through  which  she  so  often  glided,  and 
adorned,  is  indeed  painful.  But  then,  with  such  a 
housekeeper,  what  is  left  for  me  but  to  pursue  this 
course  ?  I  cannot  find  one  half  the  nice  materials  upon 
which  Lizzie  expended  so  much  time.  Mrs.  Agnew  says 
the  servants  must  have  carried  them  away.  What  was 
in  drawers  is  mostly  abstracted ;  but,  as  I  never  gave 
attention  to  the  minutiae  of  what  was  contained  in  trunks 
and  private  receptacles,  but  gave  all  the  keys  to  my 
housekeeper,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  was 
purloined.  But  whoever  is  the  aggressor  must  suffer 
more  by  the  gain  than  I  can  by  the  loss. 

"  Aug.  8th.  I  do  not  exactly  enjoy  this  bustling 
whirl  in  which  I  live.  I  sometimes  picture  to  myself  a 
re-gathered  family,  where  we  can  again  garner  up  our 
wasted  hopes,  and  sit  by  our  cheerful  fireside.  If  there 
were  another  Lizzie  in  this  wide  world  who  could  but 
supply  the  place  of  her  who  was  gone  —  but  what  have  I 
said  ?  It  is  —  it  is  scarcely  five  months  since  she  left 
13* 


150  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

me,  and  I  have  every  week  since  watered  her  grave  with 
my  tears. 

"  Sept.  20th.  Have  not  visited  my  dear  wife's  grave 
for  three  weeks.  At  first  I  had  a  misgiving,  as  if  she 
were  conscious  of  the  neglect ;  but  it  is  only  the  material 
form  which  is  entombed  —  her  gentle  spirit  would  gladly 
spare  me  from  all  unnatural  grief.  How  much  the 
children  need  a  home  and  a  mother's  care  ! 

"  Oct.  17th.  When  I  was  first  introduced  to  Amelia 
Blond,  she  at  once  reminded  me  of  my  dear  wife.  True, 
she  is  a  mere  girl  compared  with  her  —  some  fifteen 
years  younger — but  still  all  the  graces  of  womanhood 
are  fully  developed.  If —  heavens  !  I  blush  to  enter  it 
upon  my  journal !  How  Mrs.  Agnew,  my  old  house 
keeper,  would  glory  in  the  fulfilment  of  her  prophecy 
made  in  my  deepest  bereavement !  '  Mr.  Herbert,'  said 
she,  '  your  feelings  will  be  materially  changed  in  a  few 
months,  and  in  less  than  a  year  I  predict  your  marriage  ! 
Such  violent  grief  never  survives  more  than  one  season.' 
I  could  have  turned  her  from  my  threshold  for  such  an 
intimation ;  but,  alas !  how  little  we  know  ourselves  ! 
Lizzie,  your  image  is  still  enshrined  in  my  heart ;  but 
must  I  go  weeping  through  the  remainder  of  my  journey 

because  you  were  taken  from  my  side? 1  met  Dr. 

Frost  yesterday ;  he  first  ventured  to  joke  me  upon  being 
married  again.  This  led  to  a  serious  conversation  upon 
the  subject.  The  doctor  has  been  through  the  depths  of 
affliction  three  successive  times,  and  now  is  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  domestic  bliss.  He  urged  no  objection  to 
Miss  Blond  but  her  age ;  but  some  girls  at  twenty  are  as 
fit  to  rule  a  household  as  others  at  fifty.  I  do  not  myself 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  151 

think  her  age  an  insuperable  objection ;  she  will  be  more 
companionable  to  Grace.  But  how  do  I  know  that  she 
would  marry  a  man  so  much  her  senior  1  The  doctor 
says,  '  how  will  you  know  unless  you  ask  her  ? ' 

"  Nov.  4th.  Since  my  last  entry  in  my  journal,  I 
have  taken  a  great  step.  The  proposal  to  marry  Amelia 
was  accepted,  and  I  find  myself  in  a  new  world  ;  the  old, 
restless,  disconsolate  feeling  I  have  endured  seems  leav 
ing  me.  My  weed  is  horribly  rusty  upon  my  hat,  and 
outward  marks  of  mourning  are  superfluous.  I  have 
thought  I  would  not  use  any  more  crape  surroundings. 
I  must  express  my  feelings  to  my  dear  friend  to  whom  I 
so  recently  communicated  my  deep  sorrow,  well  assured 
that  she  will  reply,  '  Henry,  I  tremble  for  you.' ' 

And  let  us  hear  the  confession  thus  confidentially 
made.  It  belongs  to  our  humanity,  that  the  sunshine 
should  succeed  the  storm,  as  much  in  the  physical  as  the 
material  universe. 

"My  DEAR  ANNA  :  —  As  you  have  been  the  faithful 
depository  of  my  sorrows,  it  is  but  justice  due  to  you  to 
be  made  acquainted  with  my  joys.  Know  then,  my  good 
friend,  that  having  been  crushed  by  the  weight  of  sorrow, 
and  feeling  the  desolation  of  a  heart  that  turns  to  another 
for  support,  I  met,  by  the  merest  accident,  a  lovely  girl, 
who  so  strikingly  reminded  me  of  my  early  love,  that  I 
sought  an  introduction  to  her.  She  was  stopping  here 
with  her  father  for  a  few  days.  She  is  well  connected  ; 
her  father  is  cashier  in  a  bank  in  Western  New  York.  I 
have  been  there,  made  my  proposals,  and  have  been  ac 
cepted  !  —  Thus,  dear  Anna,  you  have  been  made  ac- 


152  BUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

quainted  -with  this  new  feature  in  my  history.  Do  not 
ask  me  if  I  am  demented ;  — far  from  it.  Amelia  Blond 
is  just  about  twenty  years  of  age,  lively,  fascinating,  per 
fectly  charming  in  conversation ;  the  idol  in  her  home, 
being  the  eldest  child  ;  handsome,  sweet-tempered,  and 
just  such  a  being  as  would  make  Grace  and  Arthur  one 
of  the  most  accomplished  of  companions,  and  the  best  of 
mothers.  I  cannot,  for  I  dare  not,  attempt  to  tell  you 
how  I  conceived  of  this  beautiful  being  who  has  been 
raised  up  to  me  to  pour  new  life  and  happiness  into  my 
once  bruised  heart.  In  personal  beauty,  she  far  exceeds 
my  departed  wife  ;  besides,  she  has  had  all  the  modern 
advantages  of  a  fashionable  education,  which  eminently 
qualifies  her  to  impart  her  gifts  and  graces  to  my  chil 
dren.  I  shall  not  be  married  until  January  —  have 
rented  a  fine  house  ;  and  the  very  prospect  of  being  once 
again  reinstated  as  a  happy  family  quite  elevates  my 
feelings,  and  makes  me  enthusiastic  in  the  contemplation. 
The  children,  too.  are  delighted  with  the  prospect.  Do 
not  chide  my  prompt  action ;  life  is  so  brief  we  must 
gather  all  the  sunshine  we  can  between  its  parted  clouds. 
"  Yours,  truly,  H.  H." 

And  thus  the  "  dear  Anna  "  playfully  replied  : 
"  Have  I  not  the  evidence  before  me,  Henry,  that  you 
are  a  genuine  widower  1  Inconsolable  the  first  month  of 
your  bereavement ;  not  much  relieved  the  second  ;  quite 
convalescent  the  third ;  beginning  to  look  round  you  the 
fourth  ;  find  a  lovely  piece  of  human  perfection  the  fifth ; 
engage  to  marry  her  the  sixth ;  live  on  the  ecstatic  pros 
pect  the  seventh  ;  and  enter  upon  the  glorious  realization 
the  eighth  !  Were  you  the  first  of  your  species  who  has 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  153 

acted  over  the  drama,  I  could  joke  you,  or  chide  you,  or 
gravely  caution  you.  But  I  always  fear  for  those  de 
voted  husbands  with  overpowering  griefs  at  the  loss  of 
their  earthly  idols.  At  the  present  period  of  your  ecstasy 
I  shall  therefore  intrude  no  remonstrances,  for  I  am  well 
assured  you  are  in  a  dreamy  state  of  bliss  that  nothing 
but  the  reality  will  equalize.  Let  me,  therefore,  wish 
you  as  much  enjoyment  as  you  anticipate ;  and  to  ask 
more  would  be  superfluous.  Truly,  ANNA." 

On  the  first  of  January,  seven  months  from  the  death 
of  his  idolized  wife,  Henry  Herbert  and  Amelia  Blond 
were  united  in  marriage.  The  new  home  was  an  attract 
ive  place.  Grace  and  Arthur  were  delighted  with  their 
new  mother ;  the  father  did  not  think  her  a  day  too 
young  for  his  wife,  and  the  manifest  pride  with  which  he 
introduced  his  wife,  and  the  smile-lighted  expression 
which  irradiated  his  features,  bespoke  the  perfect  satis 
faction  which  pervaded  his  inner  being.  When  we  took 
leave  of  Mr.  Herbert,  he  seemed  fully  persuaded  that  it 
was  a  wise  dispensation  which  removed  his  first  idol. 
And  although  her  memory  was  still  fragrant,  yet  he 
presented  a  living  memorial  that  the  crushed  affections 
may  be  reawakened,  and  that  there  is  no  heart,  however 
desolate,  if  it  beats  beneath  a  manly  bosom,  but  may  re 
pair  its  loss.  And  too  often  the  truth  is  self-evident 
that  the  newly-repaired  affections  seem  to  flow  out  more 
spontaneously  and  with  deeper  fervor  than  did  the  old ; 
for,  as  an  ancient  writer  quaintly  remarks,  ' '  the  old 
heart,  rejuvenated  by  the  fires  of  new  passion,  becomes 
juvenile  in  its  exhibitions  of  tenderness." 


THAT  VACANCY. 

DEATH  does  not  make  all  our  vacancies.  There  was 
a  nice  little  miss  who  lived  over  the  way,  and  she  con 
ceived  a  most  unfortunate  attachment  for  his  clerkship, 
Mr.  Anthony  Dobbs,  a  youth  of  nineteen.  It  was  a  sad 
event,  —  worse  than  death.  We  are  reconciled  (or  ought 
to  be)  to  what  Providence  sends ;  but  who  would  give 
away  a  beautiful  girl  to  a  fellow  who  owned  three  or  four 
bottles  of  hair-oil,  some  nicely-perfumed  handkerchiefs, 
sundry  parti-colored  neck-stocks,  the  wearing  apparel  he 
had  on,  and  two  pairs  of  white  kids,  —  one  soiled,  the 
other  fresh  1  Was  it  not  lamentable  to  see  the  affections, 
forgetful  of  such  an  inventory  of  worldly  goods,  march  up 
to  Hymen's  altar  and  make  solemn  vows  to  "  love,  protect, 
and  cherish,"  so  much  that  was  shadowy  and  unsubstan 
tial?  But,  then,  poets  talk  about  love  as  "ethereal," 
needing  no  substantial  soups,  only  a  few  highly-spiced 
condiments,  to  support  the  interior  life.  Certain  gross 
people,  not  understanding  this  definition,  have  been  fool 
ish  enough  to  accumulate  means  whereby  the  larder  and 
cellar  can  be  supplied  ;  but  they  are  the  beef-eaters  of 
this  lower  world,  who  imagine  a  house,  a  table,  and 
worldly  goods,  are  quite  essential !  How  wonderful  that 
such  a  theory  should  ever  have  taken  so  deep  a  root  in 
this  pleasure-taking  world  ! 


SUBSTANCE  AND    SHADOWS.  155 

Then  there  is  another  vacancy  of  a  different  kind.  Do 
you  remember  the  bachelor,  with  a  high  dickey  and  stiff 
gait,  -who  was  always  advocating  the  laws  of  health,  and 
took  so  much  exercise  that  he  used  to  be  facetiously 
called  "the  walking-ticket"?  He  boarded,  ever  since 
our  grandmother's  day  in  Pelham-street,  at  the  "  crack 
house  "  of  Mrs.  Wines.  Well,  he  has  been  caught,  and 
there  is  a  vacancy.  Poor  fellow  !  how  he  hated  music ; 
but  his  dulcinea  drags  him  to  every  concert  in  town.  As 
to  parties,  he  abominated  everything  of  the  kind  but  a 
game  of  whist  with  gentlemen.  Now,  the  carriage  is 
ordered  at  ten  to  attend  a  fancy  ball,  and  he  dresses  in 
pumps,  and  says,  "  Coachman,  call,  at  one  o'clock,  at 
No.  — "  How  long  think  you  it  will  be  before  some 
malady  seizes  him  and  lays  him  on  the  sick-bed  ?  And, 
then,  that  young  wife,  will  she  sit  by  a  dull  lamp  and 
drop  medicines,  and  warm  flannels,  and  act  like  a  faithful 
nurse  in  his  declining  years  ?  How  fortunate  it  is  wo 
are  not  made  of  glass,  and  transparent  all  the  way 
through  !  How  well  it  is  that  half  our  dissatisfactions  we 
can  throw  off  upon  some  "pain"  or  "an  affection  of  the 
liver"  !  The  doctor  cannot  tell  where  the  twinge  cornea 
from  which  causes  us  to  make  a  wry  face.  You  tell  him 
it  is  in  the  toe;  he  discerns  a  slight  inflammation  there. 
Poh,  nonsense ;  it  is  in  the  heart. 

But  we  were  on  vacancies.  Weariness  of  the  same 
place  makes  many  decamp.  This  disease  comes  on  with 
depression,  proceeds  to  a  cough,  and  thence  to  a  southern 
latitude,  to  escape  easterly  winds.  A  whole  family  are 
thus  scattered. 

Fuahion,  too,  makes  many  vacancies.     The  house  is 


156  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

too  small ;  the  street  is  too  narrow ;  the  children  have 
no  play-room ;  the  acquaintances  maintain  more  style ; 
and  so  removals  must  ensue.  And,  then,  comes  a  weari 
ness  of  one's  country.  People  have  been  west,  have 
seen  Niagara,  lived  summers  at  the  Springs,  been  to 
Virginia  cotton-fields,  ascended  Mt.  Washington,  looked 
at  the  jumping-off  place  down-east,  and  what  can  excite 
them  here  7  Plainly  they  must  take  the  steamship  and 
go  abroad.  They  would  travel  through  High  Holborn, 
peep  into  Westminster  Abbey,  pass  through  Switzerland, 
spend  a  winter  in  Rome,  see  the  crater  of  Mt.  Vesuvius, 
come  back  to  Paris,  get  a  smattering  of  all  things, 
fashions  and  people,  and  return  home  by  the  way  of 
New  York  ! 

Having  seen  all  this  world,  we  sometimes  wonder  they 
don;t  turn  their  attention  to  another ;  but  few  seem  to 
do  this,  and  any  premonition,  in  the  form  of  gout  or 
consumption,  draws  the  '-faculty"  in  earnest  consulta 
tion  upon  their  case,  and  every  conceivable  thing  is  done 
lest  they  should  leave  this  world,  which  is  so  trying. 
And,  when  they  must  die,  how  they  grasp  still  at  fleet 
ing  shadows  !  —  sometimes  undetermined  where  to  bestow 
what  they  cannot  carry  with  them,  distrustful  of  every 
body,  altering  last  wills,  subjoining  codicils,  making 
strange  bequests,  passing  away  with  great  parade  through 
public  streets,  and  leaving  places  vacant ! 

All  this  we  daily  witness,  and  never  once  think  of 
expressing  our  profound  gratitude  that  we  are  corruptible 
rather  than  transparent,  for  those  we  leave  behind  to 
criticize  our  real  characters. 


"SELLING    OFF    AT    COST." 


"  WHERE  did  you  get  that  splendid  lace  upon  your 
cape?"  inquired  Mrs.  Eager  of  her  neighbor,  Mrs. 
Higgins. 

"Why,  I  purchased  it  at  Fonday's;  did  you  know 
they  were  selling  off  at  cost?  "  Mrs.  Higgins  then  un 
rolled  an  elegant  striped  silk,  she  had  just  purchased  for  a 
dress,  only  fifty  cents  a  yard  !  a  nice  de  laine,  only  nine- 
pence  !  lots  of  prints  only  fourpence  !  and  a  splendid 
pocket  handkerchief  at  six  dollars,  the  original  price  of 
which  was  twelve ! 

Poor  Mrs.  Eager  took  fire  at  such  a  display  at  once : 
she  never  saw  such  bargains  in  her  life.  True,  she  was 
not  in  want  of  any  of 'these  articles  just  now;  but  what 
of  that?  A  good  thing  in  the  wearing  apparel  line 
neither  eats  nor  drinks  anything.  She  would  have  a 
silk  dress,  that  was  so  cheap ;  and  there  was  some  lace, 
just  such  as  she  wanted,  at  half  price.  The  de  laine 
would  make  a  beautiful  morning-dress.  What  matter  was 
it  if  she  had  half  a  dozen  already  ?  It  was  so  cheap  ! 
At  all  events  she  must  have  a  pocket  handkerchief  to 
carry  to  Mrs.  Milnor's  ball.  And  with  these  thoughts 
dancing  through  her  brain,  she  immediately  equipped 
herself  and  started  to  Fonday's,  where  a  flaming  placard, 
14 


158  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

with  "No  humbug  —  selling  less  than  cost,"  announced 
to  her  that  this  was  the  place,  although  sundry  neigh 
bors  purported  to  be  selling  the  same. 

Sure  enough  there  was  a  most  tempting  display. 
Heaps  of  silk,  glittering  and  changing  in  hue  ;  elegant 
laces,  varying  in  prices,  but  all  decidedly  cheap  ;  prints, 
patches,  linens,  cambrics,  satins  and  velvets,  all  by  turns 
attracted  our  friend's  attention.  And  then  the  clerks 
were  so  attentive,  so  ready  to  accommodate,  and  even 
Mr.  Fonday  himself  stepped  forward  and  inquired : 

"  Mrs.  Eager,  let  me  sell  you  a  bill  of  goods  to-day?  " 
to  which  Mrs.  Eager  replied : 

"Money  is  so  scarce,  Mr.  Fonday,  I  am  quite  limited 
in  my  purchases  this  season." 

"That  need  not  make  the  slightest  difference,"  re 
marked  the  good-natured  shopman ;  "  take  just  what  you 
please,  have  the  goods  booked,  and  pay  just  when  it  best 
suits  you." 

Was  ever  any  one  so  accommodating  ?  Well,  thought 
Mrs.  Eager,  this  is  the  first  bill  I  ever  ran  up  in  a  dry- 
goods  store;  but  where 's  the  harm?  Mr.  Eager,  I 
know,  would  not  approve  of  it;  he  always  says,  "  Pay  as 
you  go,  wife; "  but  I  know  he  is  short  just  now,  and  I  do 
want  these  things.  She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  all 
was  over.  Her  decision  was  made  to  take  all  she  wanted, 
it  was  such  a  good  chance.  One  silk  was  so  beautiful, 
she  thought  she  would  take  fifteen  yards  of  that  piece. 
Then  there  was  another  less  elegant,  but  still  very  use 
ful  for  some  occasions, —  she  would  have  a  dress  from 
that.  As  to  laces,  she  was  surprised  to  hear  she  had 
selected  fifteen  dollars'  worth,  and.  having  completed  her 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  159 

trading,  the  footing  of  her  bill  amounted  to  a  trifle  over 
seventy-five  dollars  !  Not  one  of  these  things  was  to  be 
used  now ;  but  then  she  remembered  they  were  all  50 
cheap.  She  was  truly  glad  to  obtain  so  many  things  to 
lay  away.  She  thought  it  would  be  better  to  withhold 
the  fact  of  her  purchases  from  her  husband,  until  money 
grew  easier,  and  the  banks  discounted  more  freely. 

Mr.  Eager  came  home  to  dinner  sick  and  dispirited. 
He  protested  he  could  not  get  on  much  longer  unless 
there  came  a  change  for  the  better ;  and  upon  Mrs.  Eager 
expressing  much  sympathy  for  him,  he  bade  her  keep  up 
good  cheer,  be  economical  as  possible,  and  perhaps  by 
and  by  things  would  change  for  the  better.  For  the  first 
time,  Mrs.  Eager  wished  all  her  goods  back  again  in  the 
shop  whence  they  were  taken.  But  what  was  to  be 
done  1  They  harassed  her  mind,  and  she  stowed  them 
all  away  in  a  back  closet,  putting  them  out  of  sight,  hop 
ing  to  get  them  out  of  mind.  We  will  leave  them  there 
for  the  present,  and  return  to  Fonday's. 

"I  will  look  at  your  choice  laces,"  said  a  little  miss 
of  some  eighteen  years.  She  selected  of  the  prettiest 
patterns,  and  "How  much  do  you  ask  for  this?"  she 
inquired. 

"Two  dollars  a  yard,  miss, — just  such  as  we  have 
been  selling  for  three  dollars." 

"I  can't  think  of  giving  that.  Mrs.  Higgins  bought 
one  here  for  four  and  sixpence,  which  looked  equally  as 
well." 

"You  are  mistaken,  I  think,"  replied  the  clerk; 
"this  is  real  Mechlin,  a  most  superb  article,"  and  he 
compared  the  two.  "  They  looked  just  alike,  but  they 


160  SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS. 

were  entirely  different !  "  So,  after  coaxing  and  praising, 
our  little  miss  took  the  lace  at  the  clerk's  price.  The 
difference  was  so  unimportant,  that  when  Mrs.  Higgins 
and  Miss  B.  met,  a  lady  present  remarked : 

"  So,  ladies,  I  perceive  you  have  both  been  to  Fon- 
day's."  The -price  made  the  difference! 

"Let  me  see  some  of  your  nicest  black  silks,"  said  one 
of  some  dozen  who  were  pulling  over  goods  and  troubling 
the  clerks.  It  was  shown  her.  "  What  is  the  price? " 

"One  dollar  per  yard,  madam,  and  the  best  article 
ever  sold  in  the  market  for  that  price;"  and  he  twitched, 
and  folded,  and  rumpled  it  together  to  test  its  various 
qualities. 

"  One  dollar  !  Why,  I  saw  just  as  good  a  little  below 
here  for  eighty-seven  and  a  half  cents  per  yard.  I 
thought  you  were  selling  at  cost."  So  saying,  the  lady 
twirled  it  over  her  finger,  and  held  it  up  to  the  light ; 
"  It  ;s  decidedly  rusty,"  said  she  ;  "  it  looks  dull ;  let  me 
see  some  with  a  better  lustre." 

"  We  have  none,"  said  the  clerk,  "of  any  richer  qual 
ity."  The  silk  was  replaced  upon  the  shelf. 

"Let  me  look  at  your  merinos." 

They  were  handed  down,  and  our  fashionable  shopper 
declared  they  were  much  higher  than  any  she  had  seen. 
She  thus  went,  pricing  and  decrying  the  goods,  through 
the  whole  length  of  the  shop,  and  at  last  returned  where 
she  started  from,  to  look  once  more  at  that  piece  of  rusty 
silk.  "  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  "  but  I  would  take  this 
at  four  and  sixpence  a  yard."  But  the  clerk  was  in 
flexible,  and  the  lady  left.  She  returned,  however,  that 
same  afternoon,  and  took  the  whole  piece  at  one  dollar 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  161 

per  yard  !  "I'm  an  old  shopper"  she  remarked,  as 
the  silk  was  measured,  "  and  generally  know  what  I  am 
about,  before  I  purchase."  Who  doubted  that  part  of 
her  story  1 

Mrs.  Green's  carriage  is  at  the  door.  She  has  read 
the  advertisement,  and  although  she  has  been  laid  ;*p 
with  the  influenza  for  some  weeks,  yet  she  thought  she 
would  venture  out  and  look  at  some  cap  laces.  Swiss 
muslins,  tarltan  muslins,  book  muslins,  &c.,  were  all 
exhibited,  but  nothing  suits;  she  has  seen  richer  and  bet 
ter  for  far  less  money.  Mrs.  Green,  however,  thought  a 
fourpenny  print  "was  pretty,"  and  actually  bought  one 
to  give  her  waiting-maid  for  a  new-year's  present ! 

This  is  a  specimen  of  some  people  who  make  "the 
rush"  at  those  stores  which  advertise  selling  off  at  cost. 
They  literally  demand  the  goods  to  be  given  away.  But, 
thank  fortune,  there  are  exceptions.  There  is  Mrs. 
Tibbs,  she  knows  what  she  wants,  inquires  for  it,  and,  if 
it  suits,  takes  it.  There  is  Mrs.  Bond,  and  a  host  of 
others,  who  generously  patronize  dry  goods  establish 
ments,  and  are  willing  to  pay  for  what  they  buy.  Were 
this  class  extinct,  where  would  be  the  shop-keepers '? 

"  I  declare,"  said  Fonday,  one  night  to  his- partner, 
"  this  'selling  off  at  cost'  is  a  ruinous  business,  after  all." 
He  looked  at  the  list  of  notes  payable  and  those  receiva 
ble.  He  estimated  the  store  expenses.  Twenty  clerks 
to  be  paid,  a  book-keeper  at  a  large  salary,  and  three 
families,  all  living  in  genteel  style,  with  the  goods 
marked  down  and  selling  off  at  cost.  It  was  a  difficult 
problem  to  make  both  ends  meet,  and  were  it  not  that  in 
previous  years  there  had  been  an  accumulation,  it  never 
14* 


162  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

could  have  been  done.  "  I  have  taken  during  two  weeks 
since  my  goods  were  marked  doAvn,"  pursued  Fonday, 
"  cash  to  the  amount  of  twenty  thousand  dollars ;  we  have 
booked  about  ten  thousand,  and  have  sold  our  most  de 
sirable  articles,  and  upon  the  remainder  there  must  be  a 
further  reduction,  or  we  shall  never  get  them  off." 

"No,"  replied  the  partner,  "get  in  some  new  ones, 
advertise  again,  and  by  degrees  we  shall  clear  them  all 
out," 

They  did  so ;  but  here  were  new  liabilities  assumed, 
and  if  no  profit,  how  much  loss  think  you,  accrues? 
And  upon  whom  is  that  to  fall?  If  the  firm  are  able 
to  stand  it,  of  course  they  are  impoverished ;  if  not,  it 
falls  upon  those  who  first  sold  the  goods ;  and  so  the  evil 
consequences  are  traceable  far  back,  and  we  hear  of 
much  derangement  in  trade,  unexpected  failures,  great 
scarcity  of  money,  banks  that  won't  discount,  and  a 
train  of  evils.  If  "  selling  off  at  cost "  is  really  what  it 
purports  to  be,  how  can  it  be  but  a  ruinous  affair  ? 

There  is  another  evil ;  goods  are  put  at  prices  which, 
unless  afterward  adhered  to,  will  not  be  purchased. 
Other  traders,  who  are  pursuing  the  old  way  of  fair 
profits,  are  neglected;  for  people  will  flock  where  goods 
can  be  purchased  cheapest.  I  remember  an  anecdote  in 
point.  A  short  time  since  a  small,  insignificant-looking 
back  store  stood  full  a  mile  from  any  thoroughfare,  in  a 
little  dirty  street.  But  the  man  advertised  "goods  from 
auction  at  unprecedented  low  prices."  In  the  course  of 
a  week,  so  great  was  the  rush,  that  the  passage-way 
leading  to  the  store  was  literally  blocked  up  all  hours  in 
the  day.  He  sold  laces  for  one  cent,  which  were  held  at 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  163 

three  cents  everywhere ;  and  gloves  for  four  cents,  actu 
ally  worth  eight ;  and  women  will  find  out  such  things  ! 

But  we  will  turn  to  Mrs.  Eager.  She  was  invited  to 
a  large  party,  and  she  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 
show  that  elegant  silk  she  had  laid  away  in  the  dark 
closet.  Her  mantua-maker  advised  her  by  all  means  to 
have  it  made  up ;  it  would  show  off  splendidly  by  gas 
light.  But  then  if  Mr.  Eager  should  find  it  out,  as  dis 
appointed  and  tried  as  he  was  already,  what  would  be 
the  consequence?  Vanity  will  make  us  risk  conse 
quences,  and  the  silk  was  carried  to  a  shop  and  made  in 
elegant  style.  Mr.  Eager  always  knew  when  his  wife 
looked  well,  but  could  never  tell  what  she  wore.  So 
they  started  for  the  party  with  the  unpaid  dress,  and 
Mrs.  Eager  seemed  to  forget  the  past,  and  enjoy  only  the 
present. 

Soon  after  they  entered  the  gay  assembly,  a  volatile 
young  lady  thus  addressed  Mr.  Eager : 

"  So  your  wife  has  come  out  in  Fonday's  richest  silk. 
I  saw  it  there,  and  meant  to  have  purchased  it,  but  Mrs. 
Eager  had  got  the  start  of  me.  Fonday  told  me  he  sold 
her  a  nice  bill  of  goods." 

Mr.  Eager  was  thunderstruck,  and  said  nothing,  but 
gave  an  assumed  laugh,  and  passed  on.  His  enjoyment 
for  that  evening  was  at  an  end.  He  seemed  abstracted, 
dull  and  cheerless,  and  no  one  could  divine  the  cause  — 
not  even  his  wife.  They  returned  home,  and  she  began 
to  chide  her  husband  for  inattention.  This  elicited  the 
whole  matter,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eager  were  changed  in 
tone.  For  the  second  time,  Mrs.  Eager  wished  all  her 
purchases  in  the  store  whence  they  were  taken. 


164  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

A  few  days  after,  while  sitting  at  dinner  (having  made 
up  the  disagreement),  the  bell  rang  violently,  and  the 
bill  was  handed  to  Mr.  Eager,  which  his  wife  had  run  up 
at  Fonday's.  For  the  third  time,  Mrs.  E.  wished  those 
goods  back  again  in  the  store. 

"  If  I  had  ever  deprived  you  of  money  when  you  had 
asked  it ;  if  you  had  not  known  my  wishes  respecting 
bills  being  left  unpaid;  if  you  had  not  deceived  me — " 
but  why  pursue  his  conversation?  The  bill  was  paid, 
and  Mrs.  Eager  never  again  bought  what  she  had  not 
cash  to  pay  for  at  the  time. 

"  But  I  have  bills  at  a  number  of  stores,"  says  one. 

"And  so  do  I,"  replies  another. 

Let  me  ask  you  one  question,  ladies ;  do  you  never 
purchase  many  articles  in  this  way  which  with  cash  in 
hand  you  would  feel  that  you  did  not  need  ?  The  answer 
to  this  question  tells  whether  it  is  expedient  or  not  to 
purchase  on  trust.  It  may  be  convenient,  it  may  be 
agreeable  to  your  husband  that  you  should  do  so ;  then 
very  well,  but  never,  never  deceive  a  man, —  never  let  a 
long  account  be  passed  to  him,  if  he  disapproves  the 
practice.  Such  little  breaks  in  the  domestic  threads  of 
love  should  be  carefully  avoided  by  every  good  wife. 


THE   UNFINISHED   PICTURE. 


HAVING  recently  called  upon  a  family,  consisting  of 
three  daughters  and  one  son,  who  had  just  returned  from 
a  fashionable  watering-place,  their  fertile  imaginations 
were  busy  in  the  future,  as  a  great  event  was  about  to 
take  place.  "Hattie,"  one  of  the  young  ladies,  had 
recently  become  engaged,  and  that  most  fruitful  topic  of 
"Who  is  he?"  having  been  disposed  of  (not  exactly  as 
some  of  the  friends  would  have  desired),  the  subject  of 
bridal  fashions  formed  the  chit-chat  of  the  whole  call. 
We  will  premise  that  the  lady's  father  was  only  in  mod 
erate  circumstances,  and  leave  the  reader  to  judge  of  the 
wants,  and  their  reasonableness,  by  a  simple  description. 

"Hattie  is  to  be  married,"  said  the  mother,  "in 
splendid  white  brocade.  The  article  is  of  recent  importa 
tion,  and  cost  five  dollars  per  yard.  Is  n't  it  a  beautiful 
article?  Her  pocket-handkerchief  cost  twenty-five  dol 
lars,  and  she  is  now  teasing  her  father  for  a  diamond 
bracelet.  Dear  child !  it  is  an  event  that  seldom  hap 
pens  more  than  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  I  do  not  wonder 
the  child  feels  a  little  particular  in  the  style  of  her 
dress,"  continued  her  fond  mother.  "  The  bridal  hat 
must  be  of  corn-color.  That  is  decidedly,  girls,  the 
most  genteel,  the  most  expensive,  and  the  most  tasteful." 


166  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

"  And  -where  will  they  live?  "  inquired  a  friend. 

"  0,  that  is  undecided  !  Probably  board  for  the 
present.  My  child  is  a  perfect  novice  in  domestic  affairs. 
She  cannot  assume  the  cares  of  housekeeping,  at  any 
rate." 

"But,  ma,"  drawled  out  the  engaged  Hattie,  "I  can 
get  a  cookery-book,  and  that  will  teach  me  everything. 
I  can,  then,  make  ices  and  cream-cakes,  and  all  those 
splendid  fixings  we  have  had  for  desserts  all  the  past 
summer."  And  the  girl  was  on  tiptoe  at  the  very 
thought  of  her  luxurious  living.  Poor  thing  !  we  pitied 
her.  We  could  not,  however,  forbear  to  ask  who  was 
most  in  fault,  that  mother  or  the  daughter. 

There  was  a  rumor,  a  few  days  after  this  interview, 
of  a  heavy  failure  ;  the  father  of  Hattie  was  interested  in 
the  same  concern,  and  he,  too,  was  declared  a  bankrupt ! 
And  once  more  the  attention  of  people  was  directed  to 
the  young  man  to  whom  she  was  about  to  be  married. 
Nobody  knew  who  he  was,  excepting  that  he  had  passed 
on  idle  summer  at  the  Springs,  and  had  a  love  of  sketch 
ing  from  nature  for  his  own  amusement ;  but  here  was  a 
sketch  in  real  life,  and  the  picture  lay  in  a  very  unfin 
ished  state.  Can  any  one  write  the  description  of  such 
a  family  1  We  gladly  turn  over  the  canvas,  for  we  can 
anticipate  the  sombre  shade  which  filled  it. 


MARRYING  TOO  LATji. 

"THERE  is  no  season,"  said  my  Uncle  Richard.  "I 
dread  like  the  approach  of  spring.  It  is  not  that  I  have 
not  a  taste  for  opening  buds  and  blossoms  ;  it  is  not  that 
I  am  not  a  lover  of  rural  pleasures ;  but  it  is  because 
your  Aunt  Hannah  seems  to  have  so  many  newly-blown 
ideas  and  wants,  that  I  find  it  hard  to  steer  clear  of  the 
breakers.  I  don't  know  the  peculiarities  of  other  women, 
for  I  never  studied  the  female  sex  much.  You  know  I 
lived  a  bachelor  until  I  was  eight-and-forty,  and  what  the 
deuce  I  ever  married  for,  sometimes  proves  a  vexing 
question  to  me.  But  still  I  do  know  the  reason.  I  felt 
lonely  sometimes.  I  used  to  get  irritated  with  landladies, 
and  mad  at  house-servants,  and  provoked  with  washer 
women  ;  and  whenever  I  spoke  of  my  troubles  to  my 
friend  Squire,  he  used  to  say,  '  All  this,  Dick,  comes  from 
single  blessedness ; '  and  I  was  fool  enough  to  believe 
him.  Then  I  had  a  terrible  tussle  with  myself  to  know 
whom  I  had  better  marry  !  I  hired  a  pew  in  the  broad 
aisle  of  Dr.  Brod well's  church  ;  for  they  said  this  was  a 
good  place  to  look  out  for  a  wife ;  so  I  opened  the  window 
of  my  heart,  lifted  my  embossed  prayer-book,  and  re 
peated,  '  Good  Lord,  deliver  us ; '  but  I  am  afraid  now  it 
was  not  an  acceptable  prayer. 


168  SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS. 

"  Well,  Judith  Dunn,  the  •widow,  sat  right  before  me. 
She  had  three  little  daughters,  all  arrayed  in  black  for 
their  '  dear  papa; '  and  Mrs.  Dunn  wore  so  thick  a  veil  I 
never  could  penetrate  beneath  it  to  see  her  face,  until 
about  the  fourth  Sunday  after  I  took  the  pew.  Then  she 
brushed  by  me,  and,  hitting  the  flap  of  my  coat  just  as 
she  was  turning  the  corner,  '  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Guy,'  said 
Bhe.  It  was  enough.  Squire  saw  her,  said  she  had 
money,  told  what  well-behaved  children  the  little  Dunns 
were,  what  a  nice  wife  she  made,  what  an  amiable  dispo 
sition  she  had,  how  she  mourned  her  husband's  death,  and 
the  uncertainty  of  her  ever  marrying  again. 

"  'Find  out  that  last  fact  for  me,'  said  I  to  Squire. 
So,  having  committed  myself,  I  must  stand  the  racket. 

"Squire  made  an  errand  to  Mrs.  Dunn's  house,  feigning 
a  kind  of  inquiry  about  a  man  indebted  to  her  late  hus 
band  and  himself.  The  widow  appeared  terribly  down 
cast,  and  Squire  awkwardly  said,  '  I  hope  your  days  of 
mourning  will  not  last  forever.  Time  assuages  grief, 
and  it  may  be  your  duty  to  yet  form  another  connection.' 

"  '  0,  heavens  ! '  exclaimed  the  widow,  '  never,  never, 
Mr.  Squire.  My  heart  is  broken  —  I  can  never  love 
another  man.  My  husband,  sir,  was  one  of  a  thousand.' 

"  '  I  left  her,'  said  Squire,  '  but  just  as  my  hand  was 
on  the  latch  to  go,  she  inquired,  "  Do  you  know,  sir,  who 
that  gentleman  is  who  has  taken  the  pew  adjoining  mine 
in  our  church  '?  " 

"  '  0.  yes ;  he  is  my  friend  Guy,  an  old  bachelor,  but 
a  sterling  man,  worth  his  thousands,  full  of  good-humor, 
and  on  the  look-out  for  a  wife,  as  we  say.' 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  169 

"  Mrs.  Dunn  evidently  looked  brighter,  and  remarked, 
'  He  is  very  fine-looking  —  what  is  his  business? ' 

"  '  A  commission  merchant,'  I  replied,  '  and  a  law-and- 
order  man  —  always  on  the  right  side.  Shall  I  bring  him 
in  and  introduce  him  to  you,  madam  1  You  seem  so  lonely 
a  little  society  must  cheer  you.' 

"  'Do  as  you  please,  Mr.  Squire;  but  you  know  all 
gentlemen  are  alike  to  me  nowj  and  she  wiped  her  eyes. 

"Squire  told  me  all  this,"  pursued  Uncle  Richard, 
"  and  the  widow  Dunn  was  forever  after  before  me.  I 
went  again  to  my  pew,  but  ere  I  started  I  remember 
twitching  off  half  a  dozen  dickeys  before  I  could  get  one 
of  becoming  height.  I  ordered  a  new  coat  from  my 
tailor,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  actually  stood 
upon  a  stool  in  my  chamber,  against  a  looking-glass,  to 
ascertain  whether  it  was  a  complete  fit.  I  bought  per 
fumery,  carried  real  lawn  handkerchiefs  instead  of  ban 
dannas  ;  and  all  for  what  1  Why,  the  widow  Dunn,  to 
be  sure  !  And  who  would  believe  a  man  of  eight-and- 
forty  could  have  been  such  a  fool  ?  /,  too,  who  had  con 
demned  all  the  striplings  for  such  folly,  who  was  so  indif 
ferent  all  my  previous  life  to  women,  how  could  /  be  so 
altered  a  man  1  /,  who  used  to  go  to  bed  to  dream  of 
advances  or  falls  in  cotton  ;  who  used  to  write  long  arti 
cles  on  free  trade  and  the  tariff;  who  studied  the  state 
of  mercantile  affairs  far  more  than  my  Bible  —  /,  Rich 
ard  Guy,  entrapped  by  a  green  widow  !  I  could  scarcely 
believe  in  my  identity,  for  all  my  thoughts  were  turned 
upon  this  subject :  Will  she  marry  me  ?  How  can  I  best 
insinuate  myself  in  her  good  graces  ? 

"  I  made  my  call  with  Squire,  all  forearmed  to  admire ; 
16 


170  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

but  when  the  tall,  graceful  woman  entered  the  room,  and 
put  on  such  a  sweet  smile,  and  added,  '  I  am  happy  to 
see  you,  gentlemen,'  I  was  what  Squire  called  'smashed 
—  all  done  for  —  gone.' 

"  I  had  no  peace  then,  nor  have  I  since ;  for  hefore  I 
obtained  her  consent,  I  worried  myself  to  death  about 
her  reply  —  and  after  I  got  the  affirmative,  golden 
dreams  of  bliss  made  a  new  world  for  me.  And  then  my 
married  friends  were  forever  congratulating  me,  for  there 
is  no  truer  saying  than  '  misery  loves  company.'  There 
was  but  one  incorrigible  old  widower,  and  whenever  I 
spoke  to  him  of  marrying  again,  he  would  tartly  reply, 
'  A  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire.'  I  thought  he  was  a  pest 
to  the  race.  I  think  better  of  him  now. 

"  But  Mrs.  Dunn,  after  a  short  courtship,  became  Mrs. 
Guy.  She  was  not  a  woman  of  truth,  for  did  she  not 
declare,  again  and  again,  she  never  should  marry  ?  Now, 
if  a  person  deceives  one  way,  they  are  very  apt  to  in 
another.  And  then  again,  there  were  some  embarrassing 
circumstances  attendant  upon  our  union.  The  children 
were  forever  calling  me  '  Pa '  before  my  old  comrades,  and 
I  felt  kind  of  sensitive  to  such  a  word,  especially  when  I 
saw  an  unmistakable  smile  playing  about  the  corners  of 
their  mouths. 

"  But  it  always  appeared  to  me  Mrs.  Guy  was  a  singular 
woman.  She  did  not  appear  half  as  captivating  after  her 
marriage  as  before.  She  had  so  many  wants,  there  was 
never  any  satisfying  them.  And  then  the  worst  part  of 
all  were  her  allusions.  '  Mr.  Guy,  you  know  my  thirds 
would  have  made  me  independent  without  you  '  —  and 
this  was  a  terrible  cross,  since  I  knew  nothing  of  her 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  171 

thirds.  Certainly  the  other  two-thirds  were  quite  enough" 
for  me  to  be  acquainted  with. 

"  And  now,  as  I  began,  I  repeat  it,  there  was  no  sea 
son  I  so  much  dreaded  as  the  spring.  About  the  middle 
of  April  she  always  commenced  talking  about  going  out 
of  town.  I  inveighed  against  it,  but  she  would  forever 
add,  '  Do  you  not  wish  to  avoid  taxation,  Mr.  Guy  ?  My 
poor  husband  used  to  say  he  saved  all  his  summer's  rent 
at  Oakland,  and  more  besides,  by  these  early  removals.' 
So,  to  keep  peace  the  first  year,  I  did  so,  and  had  the 
pleasure  of  being  publicly  recorded  as  one  who  escaped 
taxation  —  never  charging  it  upon  my  wife,  where  it 
belonged.  The  second  year  Ave  let  our  house  arid  fur 
niture  standing,  to  my  wife's  cousins,  a  newly-married 
couple,  because  they  could  do  no  harm  without  chil 
dren  to  wear  and  tear.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
the  house  in  the  autumn  —  the  yard  —  the  back  pas 
sage —  the  drains.  You  would  write  an  essay  upon 
filthy,  dirty  housekeepers,  I  am  confident.  Suifice  it  to 
say,  we  paid  one  hundred  dollars  for  repairs,  beyond 
what  we  received,  besides  reckoning  the  cost  of  the  new 
carpets  for  our  drawing-rooms.  Jupiter  !  how  I  wanted 
to  vent  my  ire.  If  it  had  only  been  in  a  boarding-house, 
or  a  deception  any  one  else  had  practised,  I  could  have 
found  some  relief  in  words.  But  who  ever  thought 
well  of  a  man  who  exclaimed  against  his  wife's  move 
ments  ?  I  remember  how  it  struck  me  when  I  was  a 
bachelor,  and  any  of  the  men  spoke  disrespectfully  of 
their  wives.  I  thought  they  ought  to  be  blown  up. 

"  A  thousand  times,  as  I  reviewed  my  life,  I  have 
been  perplexed  to  find  the  solution  of  my  marrying  a 


172  SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS. 

widow  —  and  with  three  daughters  !  What  if  they  had 
money  enough  to  support  them  1  Was  it  not  a  great 
care  I  assumed?  Might  I  not  have  known  the  mis 
eries  of  so  much  clear-starching  1  Then  was  it  not 
no.tural  that  Mrs.  Guy  should  always  be  in  a  worry 
about  her  children  ?  Some  people  tried  to  comfort  me, 
saying  that  I  ought  to  be  thankful  there  was  only  one 
set  of  them.  But  when  a  man  begins  to  feel  a  little 
weather-beaten,  and  somewhat  rheumatic,  he  wants  a 
snug  little  corner  in  his  large  house,  where  he  may  grunt 
and  groan  just  as  much  as  he  pleases.  He  don't  want  to 
be  forever  pestered  about  Clara's  beau,  and  Judith's  offer, 
and  Susy's  walking  with  a  Carolinian.  Besides,  who 
wants  to  see  a  rocking-chair  always  in  motion,  or  a 
young  man  talking  in  an  undertone  ? 

"And  then,  too,  what  harassing  work  the  spring 
makes  about  journeys  !  Why,  I  used  to  take  my  carpet 
bag  and  umbrella,  and  say  to  my  landlady,  '  Shall  not 
probably  be  back  for  ten  days.'  All  my  cares  were  left 
behind  with  my  old  slippers  ;  but  now  it  is  —  '  Father, 
I  have  left  my  India  rubbers  —  Susy  has  forgotten  her 
sunshade — that  shawl  is  missing  —  where 's  the  basket 
of  oranges,  and  your  thick  shoes,  and  my  sack,  father  ? ' 
0,  it  wears  the  life  out  of  a  man  of  any  age  !  Then,  of 
all  things,  who  wants  a  house  filled  with  dress-makers, 
seamstresses  and  cousins,  who  come  in  to  sew  a  few  days? 
I  tell  you,  I  should  rather  double  Cape  Horn  and  be 
landed  among  the  Fejee  islanders." 

"  Why,  Uncle  Richard,  you  grow  frantic.  Your  wife 
calls." 

"  I  merely  wish  to  say,  Mr.  Guy,  that  you  may  order 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  178 

the  carriage  at  twelve,  and  I  wish  you  would  help  me 
pack  the  travelling-trunk,  and  just  go  over  to  the  gro 
cer's  and  fill  the  hand-basket  with  oranges,  figs,  and  the 
like,  for  our  Susy.  She  ;s  a  great  dyspeptic,  you  know, 
and  loaths  the  sight  of  meat." 

I  felt  for  Uncle  Richard,  and  the  more  because  I  could 
not  help  him.  There  is  a  project  yet  on  foot  for  him  to 
-visit  England.  Mrs.  Guy  says,  "  The  best  educations 
are  completed  abroad." 

u  But  we  must  take  things  as  they  are,"  I  repeated, 
"  when  we  cannot  make  them  as  we  wish."  It  was  a  dry 
moral,  and,  as  the  good  man  crushed  a  fresh-blown  dande 
lion  under  his  foot,  I  saw  there  was  but  cold  comfort  in 
the  words  I  uttered. 

Then  I  returned  home  and  soliloquized  upon  a  bache 
lor.  Take  a  man  who  has  lived  eight-and-forty  years, 
and  he  is  a  strange  animal.  Look  at  his  independence. 
He  can  smoke,  drink,  chew,  sit  with  his  legs  upon  the 
mantel  shelf,  have  a  mountain  of  newspapers  by  his  side, 
a  hearth  all  covered  with  dust  and  ashes,  a  lounge  with  a 
rickety  foot,  and  a  closet  door  with  the  lock  torn  off. 
What  does  he  care  ?  There  are  choice  baskets  of  cham 
pagne  in  the  cellar,  no  dishonored  drafts,  no  unpaid  bills, 
no  tuition  fees,  no  band-boxes  in  his  way,  no  laces  or  rib 
bons  on  his  bureau,  no  teetotums  belonging  to  "Tommy," 
nor  grace-hoops  to  "  Clara."  Sundry  old  coats  hang 
in  the  closet,  unmended  shirts  are  in  the  old  hair  trunk, 
a  chambermaid,  all  obliging,  in  the  kitchen,  to  obey  his 
commands,  a  landlady  who  admires  single  gentlemen 
boarders  ;  and  what  fastidious  worshipper  of  worldly  con 
veniences  could  wish  for  more  ?  Why,  then,  should  such 
15* 


174  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

specimens  of  humanity  trouble  their  heads  about  women  ? 
Yet  you  may  listen  to  all  their  private  intercourse  with 
the  fraternity,  and  never  will  you  find  them  ready  to 
separate,  but  some  joke  about  women  will  be  perpetrated. 
They  may  ridicule,  boast  of  their  independence,  of  their 
freedom  from  the  trammels  of  the  sex,  but  still  they  will 
talk  about  women  ;  and,  as  all  this  seems  a  natural  pro 
pensity,  we  must  come  to  the  conclusion,  after  all,  that 
•men  and  women  were  made  to  live  together.  Only  the 
mistake  lies  in  marrying  too  late  in  life,  as  did  my  Uncle 
Richard. 


THE   HENPECKED   HUSBAND. 

WELL,  I  suppose  Mrs.  Pipps  did  suffer  with  "nervous 
headaches"  and  "spasms  ;"  but  was  that  any  reason  why 
she  should  keep  all  her  family  in  a  pucker  ?  Why  could 
she  not  let  the  wind  alone,  if  it  blew  from  the  east  ?  Why 
not  let  it  rain  as  hard  as  ever  it  did  ?  Why  not  let  the  sun 
shine  so  hot  as  to  blister,  and  the  dews  fall  so  heavy  as 
to  wet  her  through  ?  Surely,  Mr.  Pipps  could  not  help 
these  things,  and  she  was  not  exposed  to  bear  them,  and 
it  only  made  others  unhappy  to  be  forever  in  a  fuss 
about  them. 

And  then  Mrs.  Pipps  was  never  well.  This  was  a 
great  source  of  unhappiness ;  but  why  need  one  ugly 
pain  put  everybody  else  in  a  state  of  torture  ?  And  the 
poor  woman  kept  up  such  ceaseless  complaints.  "There 
never  was  a  worse  cook  than  Bridget ;  she  never  made 
anything  fit  to  be  eaten ;  the  cakes  for  breakfast  were 
overdone,  and  the  mutton  for  dinner  was  burnt  up.  and 
who  wanted  burnt  mutton  chops  and  wa,tery  potatoes  for 
a  meal "?  And  then  the  chimney  smoked  when  she  felt 
very  nervous,  and  it  ought  to  have  been  swept  long  ago ; 
besides,  the  kitchen  was  always  in  a  hubbub,  and  there 
must  be  a  change  of  servants.  One  day  she  desired  her 
husband  to  get  her  a  new  kind  of  pills ;  the  next  some 


176  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

liniment,  and  the  third  day  a  patent  medicine  that 
was  invigorating  in  the  spring.  Sometimes  she  believed 
herself  going  into  a  deep  consumption,  and  then,  again, 
her  liver  was  affected. 

Yet,  Mr.  Pipps  was  a  pattern  man.  He  never  told 
his  wife  she  was  "  fidgety;"  that  exercise  and  air  would 
strengthen  her  nerves  ;  because  he  knew  such  imaginary 
diseases  were  to  be  differently  treated  from  real  ones. 
Whatever  she  wanted,  he  helped  her  to  procure.  Still, 
he  looked  the  sicker  of  the  two  ;  he  was  sallow,  and  the 
crowsfeet  settled  about  his  eyes,  and  his  hair  was 
sprinkled  quite  too  early  for  his  years.  He  was,  more 
over,  a  patient  man  —  always  told  the  children  to  mind 
what  their  mother  said  to  them,  and  never  to  cross  her 
in  her  wishes. 

And  yet  Mrs.  Pipps  was  solicitous  about  others  as 
well  as  herself.  She  would  send  Sammy  a  mile  out  of 
his  way  after  school  to  inquire  how  old  Captain  BodAvell 
did;  and  she  sent  with  the  message  an  "infallible 
recipe"  for  his  gout,  which  she  cut  out  of  an  almanac, 
and  a  recipe  for  nice  bread,  for  his  cook  to  try.  To  Mrs. 
Budd  she  ordered  a  nice  jelly,  after  she  had  fretted 
about  its  being  slightly  acid ;  and  there  was  not  a  case 
of  scarletina,  cough,  or  asthma,  among  her  acquaintances, 
but  she  could  recommend  a  cure ;  —  so  she  was '  not  a 
selfish  woman,  and  Mrs.  Pipps,  although  a  great  trial 
at  home,  was  quite  popular  abroad.  As  to  visiting,  she 
never  did  more  than  make  a  call,  and  that  must  be  some 
delightful  morning,  in  a  close  carriage,  with  the  strict 
injunction  if  the  wind  veered  easterly  to  be  driven  back 
immediately. 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  177 

Some  people  wondered  this  woman  did  not  read  more, 
and  divert  her  attention  from  self.  But,  suppose  she 
took  a  newspaper.  Why,  the  first  thing  her  eye  would 
rest  upon  would  be  a  "  late  awful  tragedy,"  or  some 
body  was  "  robbed  ;"  and  such  a  fermentation  ensued, 
one  might  fancy  her  almost  deranged.  And  then,  the 
fear  that  Mr.  Pipps  was  assassinated,  if  he  chanced  to 
stay  out  an  hour  later  than  usual,  drove  her  into  hyster 
ics,  and  hartshorn,  and  cold  water,  arid  valerian,  all  lost 
their  power.  Sometimes  sudden  sickness  seized  her,  and 
then  she  fancied  her  flannels  were  not  well  aired,  or  too 
much  wind  blew  into  the  chamber  through  the  key-hole, 
and  the  windows  and  doors  must  henceforth  be  air-proof. 
Another  severe  trial  to  her  was  living  near  an  engine- 
house.  She  never  slept  soundly  (such  people  never  do), 
and  her  fear  lest  the  fire  was  in  her  husband's  store,  or 
down  at  Netty's  house  (her  married  daughter's),  knew 
no  bounds  until  Mr.  Pipps  was  up  and  dressed,  and  in 
terrogated  the  firemen ;  thus  knowing,  for  a  certainty, 
where  the  great  smoke  came  from.  There  never  was  a 
watchman's  rattle  sprung  from  midsummer  to  midwinter 
but  she  heard  it ;  and  then  she  knew  there  were  thieves, 
or  some  foul  play,  and  she  would  sit  up  wrapped  in  flan 
nels  and  dressing-gown  and  shawls,  until  she  had  ascer 
tained  the  cause.  Finally,her  disposition  was  so  excitable 
that  both  husband  and  daughters  kept  much  concealed 
from  her;  but,  if  by  chance  it  ever  got  reported,  a 
heavy  woe  rested  on  the  household.  And  she  was  such 
a  prey  to  superstitious  fears  that  her  mind  was  never  at 
ease.  She  saw  letters  with  black  seals  in  burning  can 
dles,  and  heard  death-watches  behind  her  bed,  and 


178  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

dreamed  about  certain  events  which  just  as  clearly  fore 
told  that  something  was  going  to  happen,  that,  had  it  not 
been  so  for  years,  a  whole  family  might  have  been  filled 
with  gloomy  forebodings. 

Things  grew  worse  and  worse.  Mr.  Pipps  had  no  rest 
day  nor  night,  and  such  self-denying  men  will  wear  out 
after  a  while.  Indeed,  nobody  thought  his  life  desirable, 
and  old  Aunt  Esther  said  she  thought  "he  would  have  a 
dry  funeral."  The  "general  debility,"  which  had  fol 
lowed  him  for  years,  took  a  more  decided  form,  and  after 
a  night  of  unusual  fatigue  to  procure  his  wife  a  bottle  of 
"Nervous  Anodyne "  he  lay  down  quietly,  and  went 
into  that  sleep  from  which  there  is  no  waking. 


CLUB-HOUSES. 

THERE  are  few  places  more  outwardly  attractive  than 
club-houses.  To  be  sure,  they  have  no  high  steeples,  no 
large  gilded  signs,  no  advertisements  describing  the  fas 
cinations  of  the  resorts,  no  placards  to  decoy  the  un 
wary  ;  still,  they  are  so  inviting  because  there  are  no 
domestic  annoyances,  —  no  fretful  wives,  no  crying 
babies,  no  disturbing  influences;  and,  by  the  payment 
of  a  few  hundreds  annually,  a  man  can  recline  on  a  most 
luxurious  couch,  or  play  "  billiards,"  "  chess,"  or 
"whist,"  whenever  and  with  (almost)  whomsoever  he 
desires  a  game,  women  excepted  ! 

Now,  what  if  one  does  keep  late  hours  with  such 
choice  spirits  ?  Has  "  Mrs.  Caudle  "  nothing  to  reflect 
upon  1  Has  she  never  seriously  interposed  about  having 
her  own  will  and  icay,  and  teased  the  "dear  man" 
until  he  has  become  almost  frantic?  Didn't  he  fore 
warn  her  that  such  treatment  would  prove  the  death  of 
him  ?  And  when  he  was  actually  upon  the  brink  of  self- 
destruction,  meditating  between  a  pistol  and  drowning, 
and  discussing  with  a  friend  which  he  considered  the 
easier  death, — I  say,  just  then  did  n't  Mr.  Merryman  take 
him  by  the  arm,  and  show  him  the  brilliancy  of  a  club- 


180  SHADOWS   AND    SUBSTANCE. 

house,  so  that  he  concluded  it  was  not  best  "to  shuffle 
off  this  mortal  coil"  quite  yet? 

What  if  some  gentlemen  do  have  a  resort,  where 
only  their  own  sex  do  congregate,  and  there  smoke, 
and  chew,  and  loll,  and  —  feel  a  little  bewildered 
about  the  time  the  small  hours  are  counted  ?  They  pay 
for  such  luxuries,  and  what  law  takes  cognizance  of  their 
doings  ?  They  are  able  to  support  such  establishments, 
and  Avhose  business  is  it  to  find  fault,  if  Mrs.  Caudle 
does  not? 

Besides,  a  club-house  never  goes  begging  for  funds  to 
support  it  —  0,  no  !  —  and  it  never  wants  for  well-quali 
fied  superintendents,  nor  is  there  any  outside  talk  about 
people  and  things  ;  for  every  member  keeps  his  own 
secret,  and  not  one  wife  in  a  hundred  ever  heard  her 
husband  complain  of  his  inability  to  pay  his  assessment, 
aldiough  he  may  sometimes  think  "philanthropic  socie 
ties  make  rather  heavy  demands  upon  his  purse." 

But.  Mrs.  Twist,  you  must  not  be  too  inquisitive  about 
these  matters.  The  curiosity  so  natural  to  your  sex 
must  be  repressed.  Mr.  Twist  will,  undoubtedly,  tell  you 
all  you  ought  to  know7.  He  will  show  you  the  outside 
of  the  building,  and,  one  of  these  days,  when  there  is  a 
general  brushing  and  cleaning  of  the  establishment,  per 
chance  you  can  get  a  peep  inside,  and,  if  so.  you  will 
see  some  of  the  most  splendid  furniture,  while  an  air  of 
quiet  and  decorum  will  so  charm  you,  that,  were  it  not 
for  your  vexatious  cares  at  home,  you  would  propose  just 
such  an  establishment  for  your  own  sex.  But,  again  I 
caution  you.  don't  be  too  minute  in  your  inquiries  to 
ascertain  the  names  of  "  tJie  member 3  "  / 


THE   TRAITOR'S   END. 

"Mo RE  than  half  a  century  ago,  a  terrible  storm  swept 
over  the  city  of  London.  It  was  the  hour  of  midnight, 
when  the  blast  was  beating  most  piteously,  that  an  aged 
clergyman  was  aroused  by  a  piercing  cry  for  help.  He 
rose,  threw  aside  his  curtain,  and  beheld  the  form  of  a 
rude  man,  who  appeared  as  a  common  street-sweeper. 
The  rain  poured  in  torrents,  but  the  imploring  accents 
of  the  call  induced  the  preacher  to  take  the  arm  of  his 
guide;  and.  threading  his  way  through  narrow  streets 
and  rude  thoroughfares,  he  arrived  at  a  rude  dwelling 
wherein  lay  a  dying  man. 

"  A  strange  tale  was  his.  That  very  day  a  stranger, 
advanced  in  life,  had  fallen  speechless  at  the  scavenger's 
door.  The  kind-hearted  scavenger  had  lifted  him  from 
the  pavement,  opened  for  him  his  bed,  warmed  his  feet, 
administered  a  cordial  to  his  lips,  —  and  now  he  was 
dying!" 

The  apartment  was  indeed  a  dreary  one.  Up  a  long 
flight  of  rickety  stairs,  inside  a  door  half-hingeless,  on  a 
narrow  pallet  of  straw,  lay  this  same  stranger.  The 
lamp  burnt  dimly  on  a  broken  chair  ;  a  few  fading  em 
bers  were  on  yonder  hearth ;  a  teapot  without  a  handle 
stood  upon  it.  The  rain  was  beating  at  the  window,  and 
16 


182  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

in  sundry  panes  were  stuffed  coarse  pieces  of  clothing. 
A  valise  stood  by  the  bedside  —  it  was  the  only  property 
which  the  stranger  brought  with  him.  The  man  was 
only  half-dressed ;  his  coat  was  thrown  aside,  his  neck 
was  loosely  encased  within  a  low  shirt-collar,  but  upon 
his  legs  there  were  a  pair  of  huge  military  boots  ! 

That  face  !  There  was  an  expression  there  which,  once 
looked  upon,  Ayould  haunt  your  memory  forever  !  That 
forehead,  bold  and  manly ;  hair  slightly  changed  by  age ; 
lips  compressed,  but  yet  moving,  as  if  life  were  loth  to 
quit  its  hold,  and  large,  rolling  eyes  that  beamed  with 
an  unearthly  glare. 

What  a  spectacle  !  Those  arms  are  brandished  in  the 
air ;  that  fist  seems  clenching  a  sword,  or  holding  a  rifle ; 
a  damp,  cold  sweat  starts  from  that  hand,  and  wildly 
does  he  toss  himself  from  side  to  side  on  his  uneasy 
couch.  Throb  and  beat,  throb  and  beat,  alternately, 
went  that  poor  man's  heart,  —  for  he  was  dying.  The 
clergyman  took  hold  of  that  clenched  hand,  and  gently 
bending  his  head,  inquired,  "My  friend,  hast  thou  a 
Christian  faith?" 

"  Christian  ?"  he  echoed,  in  a  loud  voice,  for  the  first 
time,  and  in  a  deep  tone,  which  made  the  preacher  trem 
ble.  "  Will  Christianity  give  me  back  my  honor?  Go 
with  me  over  the  blue  waters.  Listen !  We  have  ar 
rived.  There  is  my  native  village,  there  is  the  green 
door-yard  in  which  my  boyhood  played,  there  is  the  roof 
of  my  paternal  mansion,  there  is  the  graveyard,  —  but 
where  is  the  flag  that  used  to  wave  ?  Another  ensign  is 
floating,  my  infamy  is  uttered  by  the  mouths  of  children, 
parents  are  taught  to  loathe  my  memory.  0,  my  God  f 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  188 

the  sting  of  remorse  is  throbbing  in  these  very  temples ; 
judgments  are  imprecated  by  dark  demons ;  a  tarnished 
name,  a  nation's  dishonor,  and  the  curse  of  unborn  in 
fants,  even  now  ring  through  my  soul !  " 

The  minister  had  watched  beside  many  impenitent  sin 
ners,  many  rebels,  whose  hands  were  stained  with  blood, 
but  never  had  he  been  called  to  such  a  death-bed. 

Suddenly  the  man  arose.  With  a  mighty  energy  he 
paced  that  creaking  floor.  If  the  storm  was  without,  so 
was  it  within  in  a  most  terrific  form.  Those  white,  bony 
fingers  laid  hold  of  the  valise,  which  stood  by  the  bed 
side,  and  drew  from  thence  a  faded  military  coat  lined 
•with  silver,  and  an  old  parchment,  in  a  piece  of  damp 
cloth,  that  looked  like  the  wreck  of  a  battle-flag. 

"  Look,"  said  the  stranger,  "  this  coat  is  spotted  with 
blood, ' '  —  bygone  days  seemed  to  rise  before  him,  — 
"  this  coat  covered  me  when  I  heard  of  the  battle  of 
Lexington,  when  I  planted  the  flag  of  triumph  on  Ticon- 
deroga  ;  that  bullet-hole  was  driven  through  at  the  siege 
of  Quebec  —  and  now  look  at  me  !  I  —  am  —  let  me 
whisper  softly  in  your  ear  —  ha  !  they  will  hear  — " 
One  burning  word  was  said  —  only  one.  "  Now  help 
me,"  continued  he,  "  to  put  on  this  coat,  for  I  have 
no  wife,  no  child  to  wipe  the  cold  sweat  from  my  brow. 
I  must  die  alone  ;  let  me  die  as  on  the  battle-field,  with 
out  a  fear." 

And  while  he  sat  arrayed  in  that  tarnished  coat,  the 
preacher  spoke  to  him  comforting  words  of  faith  in 
Christ,  of  hope  for  dying  penitents,  of  mercy  pleading 
with  justice,  of  that  faith  which  lifts  off  the  frown,  and 
shows  us  a  compassionate  Redeemer. 


184  SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS. 

"  Faith  ! "  again  reechoed  the  dying  man,  "  faith  !  " — 
the  death-chill  was  on  his  frame,  —  death-light,  too,  was 
in  his  eye.  —  "  List !  Is  there  not  George  Washington 
over  the  blue  waters,  relating  pleasant  stories  of  his 
sieges  ?  Is  there  not  George  of  England  wailing  over 
lost  colonies  ?  And  here  am  I,  —  I  —  the  first  that 
struck  the  note  of  freedom,  the  first  that  gave  the  blow 
to  that  king,  —  here  am  I,  dying  like  a  dog,  howling 
over  treachery,  lost  in  pangs  of  remorse." 

The  preacher  stepped  back  awe-struck.  Who  was 
before  him  ?  Again  the  heart  throbbed,  the  death-watch 
was  heard  in  the  wall,  the  death-rattle  seemed  hardly 
suppressed  in  the  throat. 

"Silence  along  the  lines  there!"  murmured  the 
dying  stranger ;  "  not  a  whisper ;  not  one,  for  your  lives 
are  at  stake.  Montgomery,  we  will  meet  in  the  centre 
of  the  town.  We  will  have  victory  or  death !  There 
are  steep  rocks,  —  silence,  every  man,  as  we  move  up 
the  heights.  Boys,  come  on,  on !  Hoist  the  flag  of 
freedom  !  What  care  we  for  darkness  and  storm  ?  Hurra ! 
Now,  now,  one  blow  more  and  Quebec  is  gone,  —  it  is 
ours ! " 

A  ghastly  look  is  there.  The  pale  cheek,  the  glassy 
eye.  the  heaving  bosom,  the  wild  stare,  the  death-rattle, 
the  tottering  step.  —  and  lo  !  he  has  fallen  on  the  floor  ! 

Who  is  this  strange  man  dying  in  a  garret  ?  —  this 
mark  of  nobility  crushed  like  a  moth?  —  this  wretched 
maniac,  still  clinging  to  his  faded  flag  and  his  rusty  uni 
form? 

Whence  come  these  fires  of  remorse  ?  — this  faint  hope 


SUBSTANCE    AND   SHADOWS.  185 

of  heaven  1  —  this  more  than  fear  of  hell  ?     Where  the 
parchment  —  where  the  flag  1 

Let  us  unroll  the  flag.  It  is  a  blue  banner,  with  only 
thirteen  stars  upon  it.  But  what  of  the  parchment  ?  It 
is  a  colonel's  commission  in  the  continental  army,  ad 
dressed  to  Benedict  Arnold. 

Unhonored  and  unwept,  there  lay  the  traitor  !  His 
corpse  was  in  a  rude  house ;  he  was  unknown  and 
unpitied,  save  by  strangers.  Yet  that  right  arm  had 
struck  many  a  blow  for  freedom ;  but,  for  one  act  of  base 
perfidy,  he  has  fallen  forever.  Quenched  is  the  light 
of  his  former  glory ;  remorse  hangs  like  a  thunder-bolt 
over  his  soul,  and  his  last  agonies  are  those  of  a  dis 
graced  man,  who  might  have  been  a  victorious  and  suc 
cessful  hero. 

Now,  in  dimly-lighted  rooms,  when  children  beg  of 
aged  grandsires  to  tell  them  tales  of  the  Revolution. 
Arnold,  the  traitor,  is  foremost  in  their  thoughts ;  and 
then  the  dreadful  effects  of  treason  are  narrated.  We 
are  told  that  he  left  the  great  metropolis,  that  he  engaged 
in  commerce,  that  his  warehouses  were  in  Nova  Scotia, 
that  his  ships  were  in  many  ports  ;  but  in  one  night  his 
stately  warehouses  were  laid  in  ashes  —  the  owner  was 
suspected  as  the  incendiary.  The  entire  population  of  the 
British  provinces  assembled  in  a  mass,  and  in  sight  of 
his  wife  they  hung  an  effigy,  whereon  was  inscribed, 
"  Arnold,  the  traitor  !  "  When  he  stood  beside  kings, 
when  in  the  house  of  lords,  all  faces  were  turned,  and 
all  fingers  raised.  One  venerable  lord  arose,  and 
declared  that  he  could  not  speak  to  his  sovereign  in 
the  presence  of  a  traitor. 
16* 


186  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

"  One  day,"  says  an  historian,  from  whom  we  have 
gathered  the  leading  fact  of  this  history,  "  in  a  shadowy 
room,  sat  a  mother  and  her  two  daughters,  all  attired  in 
the  weeds  of  mourning,  grouped  in  a  sad  circle,  gazing 
upon  a  picture  shrouded  in  crape.  A  visitor  now  ad 
vanced  ;  the  mother  took  his  card  from  the  hands  of  the 
servant,  and  her  daughters  heard  his  name.  '  Go,'  said 
that  mother,  rising  with  a  flushed  face,  while  a  daughter 
took  each  hand,  l  go  and  tell  that  man  that  my  threshold 
can  never  be  crossed  by  the  murderer  of  my  son,  Arnold 
the  traitor  ! '" 

This  was  the  individual  who  is  said  to  have  uttered, 
"  I  am  the  only  man  born  in  the  New  World  that  can 
raise  his  hand  to  God  and  say,  I  have  not  one  friend  — 
not  one  in  all  America  !  " 

Seldom  does  guilt  meet  such  a  retribution.  The  stings 
of  conscience  ever  goaded  him  ;  and  has  not  the  despica 
ble  wretch  who  can  thus  turn  traitor  made  his  own  pan 
demonium  while  on  earth  ?  Can  a  severer  doom  await 
him? 


LITTLE   PITCHERS  WITH  GREAT  EARS. 

"MOTHER,"  said  little  Agnes,  "what  made  you  marry 
father?  You  told  Aunt  Charlotte  you  had  all  the 
money." 

"Hush,  child!  what  are  you  talking  about?  I  did 
not  say  so." 

"Why,  yes,  mother, —  you  said  he  was  poor,  and  had 
you  thought  of  being  burdened  with  so  many  '  country 
cousins,'  as  you  call  them,  you  never  would  have  had 
him.  Don't  you  like  Aunt  Phoebe,  and  Aunt  Polly,  and 
Aunt  Judy?  I'm  sure  I  do." 

"  Why,  Agnes,  you  are  crazy,  I  believe  !  When  did 
you  ever  hear  your  mother  talk  so  ?  Tell  me  instantly." 

"Yesterday,  ma,  when  I  sat  in  the  back  parlor,  and 
you  and  aunt  were  in  the  front  one.  I  'm  sure  you  said 
so,  dear  mother,  and  I  pity  you  very  much, —  for  you 
told  aunt  there  was  a  time,  before  I  was  born,  when 
father  drank  too  much, —  arid  then,  you  know,  you  spoke 
of  the  'pledge.'  and  said  how  glad  you  were  that  the 
temperance  reform  saved  him." 

"My  dear,  I  was  talking  of  somebody  else,  I  think. 
We  were  speaking  of  Uncle  Jethro  and  his  family." 

"But  they  have  no  Agnes,  mother,  and  you  know  you 
told  about  father's  failure  in  business, —  Uncle  Jethro 


188  SUBSTAIv7CE   AND    SHADOWS. 

never  failed.  And  you  said,  too,  when  you  moved  in 
this  house  your  money  paid  for  everything,  but  the  world 
did  not  know  it,  and  — " 

11  You  've  told  quite  enough,  my  child.  What  do  you 
stay  listening  in  my  back  parlor  for,  when  I  send  you  up 
stairs  to  study  ?  It  has  come  to  a  pitiful  pass,  if  your 
aunt  and  I  must  have  all  our  privacy  retailed  in  this 
way.  I  suppose  you  have  already  told  your  father  all 
you  heard?" 

"No.  mother,  I  haven't,  because  I  thought  it  would 
hurt  his  feelings.  I  love  my  father,  and  I  never  tell 
him  anything  to  make  him  unhappy." 

Agnes  sat  looking  in  the  fire,  and  asked,  "Mother,  if 
people  really  love  others,  do  they1  ever  talk  against 
them  ?  Did  n't  you  tell  me  never  to  speak  of  any  home 
difficulty ;  and  if  Edward  and  I  say  wrong  words,  you 
tell  me  never  to  repeat  them,  and  I  never  do." 

"Agnes,"  said  the  rebuked  mother,  "listeners  are 
despicable  characters.  Don't  you  ever  let  me  know  of 
your  doing  the  like  again.  Yoii  don't  hear  right,  and 
you  make  a  great  deal  of  mischief  in  this  way." 


THE  PASS-BOOK. 

THE  greatest  accommodation  to  a  young  housekeeper, 
is  a  "little  blue-covered  book,"  containing  an  "account." 
For  a  time  it  puts  her  at  ease  in  every  particular.  She 
never  teases  her  husband  for  little  wants  ;  for,  send  this 
"book"  to  the  grocer,  the  kind,  accommodating  man 
will  put  up  anything  you  desire,  and  if  he  has  not  got  it 
on  hand,  what  is  the  difference  ?  —  he  will  get  it  for  you. 
Some  families  have  a  large  amount  of  wants.  Not  only 
eatables  are  included,  but  dry  goods ;  and  this  is  of  great 
moment  to  a  woman,  to  open  an  account  with  a  large 
firm  who  literally  keep  everything. 

We  are  presupposing  one's  credit  to  be  undoubted,  and 
the  smiles  and  urbanity  of  the  shopkeeper  will  not  be 
wanting.  He  knows  your  husband,  and  assures  you  he 
cares  not  how  largely  or  long  you  are  his  debtor ;  —  he 
never  expects  but  semi-annual  payments ;  and  six 
months  ahead  seems,  with  some  purchasers,  a  long 
period,  during  which  time  ten  thousand  chances  of  getting 
money  float  before  their  vision. 

"  Thank  fortune  !  "  exclaimed  Thomas  Carney,  as  he 
threw  down  some  settled  accounts ;  "  this  is  the  last  bill  I 
owe  on  earth,  and  I  have  five  dollars  left  untouched, 


190  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

wife.  Let  people  say  what  they  will,  housekeeping  is 
far  cheaper  than  boarding." 

Netty,  the  young  wife,  bit  her  lips,  and  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  her  brow.  Alas,  for  the  book  at  the 
dry  goods  establishment !  It  had  now  come  to  be  the 
first  of  July,  and  the  young  housekeeper  was  in  hourly 
expectancy  of  her  bill.  The  book  she  had  left  some  days 
before,  that  the  account  might  be  added. 

This  was  an  expected  guest,  moreover,  which  she  knew 
would  surely  arrive.  One  might  expect  an  aunt  or 
cousin  for  months,  a  sister  from  the  western  country,  a 
brother  from  the  West  Indies,  and  some  unforeseen  cir 
cumstance  might  prevent  their  arrival.  But  who  ever 
heard  of  an  account's  being  delayed  long,  or  not  being 
sent  at  all  ?  If  the  creditor  fails  or  dies,  is  there  •  not  a 
consignment  of  the  books,  or  a  final  settlement  of  the 
"effects"?  You  cannot  hope  to  evade  such  visitors  as 
these. 

Thomas  and  Netty  sat  on  the  sofa,  at  the  close  of  the 
third  day  in  July,  contemplating  who  and  what  they 
should  see  on  the  morrow.  They  had  been  married 
seven  months,  and  not  a  word  of  altercation  had  passed 
between  them.  She  was  all  he  desired ;  he  was  more 
than  she  expected, — a  conclusion  which  young  couples 
are  very  apt  to  come  to  at  seven  months,  perhaps,  more 
generally  than  at  the  end  of  seven  years.  In  this  con 
sciousness  of  joy,  and  full  of  hope,  Netty  sat  completing 
a  splendid  muslin  frock  for  herself  to  wear  on  the  mor 
row,  when  the  bell  rang  loudly.  She  started  to  go  to 
the  door,  but  was  driven  back  by  Thomas,  who  rebuked 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  191 

her  mildly  for  interfering  -with  his  business  when  Dinah 
was  out. 

Netty  listened, — she  trembled,  —  it  was  "the  ac 
count,"  for  she  heard  the  carrier  ask,  "If  it  would  be 
convenient  to  give  them  an  early  call  1 " 

Thomas,  thinking  it  to  be  but  a  trifle,  asked  the  lad 
to  step  in,  and  he  would  then  settle  it.  Merciful  Heaven ! 
What  is  it  1  Did  it  belong  to  him  ?  A  long  sheet  of 
bill-paper  literally  filled,  finely  written,  and  a  variety 
of  items  on  many  single  lines. 

"  Is  this  your  account?  "  said  he  to  his  wife,  with  a 
scowl,  the  first  scowl  that  she  had  ever  seen  upon  his 
brow. 

"  I  have  an  account  with  Lombardie  &  Co.,"  said  she ; 
' '  but  I  was  not  aware  of  so  many  items,  Thomas,  truly. 
What  is  the  sum  total?" 

"  Two  hundred  and  five  dollars  and  six  cents." 

"Impossible  !  "  said  Netty,  springing  from  her  seat. 
"  That  is  impossible.  I  did  suppose  I  might  be  indebted 
some  twenty-five  dollars  to  the  firm.  It  can't  exceed 
thirty.  This,  sir,"  said  she,  to  the  young  man  who  pre 
sented  the  bill,  "  is  a  mistake.  I  never  had  half  the 
articles." 

The  young  man  happened  to  be  the  assistant  book 
keeper,  and  felt  not  a  little  nettled  at  this  off-hand 
declaration. 

But  the  young  wife  pretended  to  show  the  errors. 
"There  is  a  silk  dress;  I  never,  surely,  had  such  an 
article." 

"Why,"  said  Thomas,  "what  was  the  color  of  the 
dress  you  had  made  to  attend  Mrs.  Wilkins'  party  ?  " 


192  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

"  0,  I  recollect  now  !  That  may  be  correct ;  but  this 
spotted  muslin,  I,  surely,  never  had." 

"  That  blue-spotted,  Netty,  I  disliked  so  much.  I 
thought  it  a  present  from  your  father." 

Netty  colored.  -'Mechlin  lace  at  a  dollar  per  yard. 
I  have  no  recollection  of  more  than  two  yards,  bought 
last  February." 

But  lace,  insertion,  edgings,  and  fancy  trimmings, 
swelled  the  amount  most  prodigiously;  and,  after  making 
sundry  dissenting  protestations,  it  was  concluded,  if  there 
were  any  mistakes,  they  should  be  rectified.  And  the  pre 
senter  of  this  trying  sheet  very  willingly  made  his  exit. 

"Thomas,"  said  Netty,  when  they  were  alone,  "I 
never  had  half  these  articles." 

"  Women  are  very  apt  to  be  forgetful,  when  the 
money  is  not  paid,  wife,  at  the  time." 

"Two  hundred  dollars  !  I  never  had  such  an  amount 
in  the  world,"  was  the  constant  reiteration.  "  Lombar- 
die  is  a  very  pleasant  and  agreeable  man  —  one  of  the 
kindest  and  most  obliging  shop-keepers  in  the  world. 
He  never  had  a  bargain  but  he  told  me  of  it ;  and  many 
a  time  has  he  let  me  have  some  desirable  shade  of  silk, 
or  a  fashionable  pattern  of  lace,  much  cheaper  than  I 
could  have  procured  it,  had  I  the  money  in  my  pocket." 

' '  Poh,  nonsense,  Netty !  if  you  had  the  money  in 
your  pocket,  think  you  the  amount  would  have  been 
withdrawn  for  the  same  articles  ?  " 

"  But  I  have  always  made  good  purchases,  Thomas, 
and  received  my  money's  worth  for  what  I  have  ex 
pended.  All  the  trouble  is,  I  have  not  had  all  the 
items  here  specified," 


SUBSTANCE   A*ND   SHADOWS.  193 

"I  know  nothing  about  that,  Netty;  but  I  do  won 
der,  knowing  my  salary  as  you  did,  you  should  have 
ventured  so  largely  upon  credit,  without  consulting  me. 
I  know  not  how  I  shall  procure  the  means  to  settle  this 
bill ;  I  have  only  five  dollars  towards  it  in  the  world.  It 
will  take  a  long  time,  and  great  economy,  to  make  up  so 
large  an  amount." 

Netty  felt  greatly  disturbed,  and  did  not  omit  the  first 
opportunity  to  examine  the  bill  in  the  presence  of  the 
firm.  In  vain  did  she  contend  with  this  and  that  article 
she  had  no  recollection  about.  One.  circumstance  after 
another  was  presented  to  her  mind,  and  a  dim  conscious 
ness  seemed  to  revive  almost  every  particular. 

"  How  many  useless  things  !  "  said  she,  mentally,  as 
she  reviewed  the  bill.  "  There  are  ten  yards  of  Brussels 
lace,  —  I  have  never  used  it,  but  bought  it  so  cheap  ! 
There  is  a  piece  of  ribbon. — I  did  not  want  so  much. 
Belts,  silk  hosiery,  wrought  handkerchiefs  and  collars, 
cuffs,  coverings  for  the  shoulders, — very  pretty  and  very 
cheap ;  but  as  the  money  was  not  immediately  called  for, 
all  these  articles  were  taken." 

It  was  a  bitter  experience,  and  bitterly  did  she  at  one 
for  it ;  but  it  did  not  originate  in  a  bad  heart,  —  it  was  a 
thoughtless  expenditure,  and  her  attention  had  not  been 
fixed  upon  the  issue. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  said  she,  to  Thomas,  as  she  knew 
he  grew  uneasy  about  the  payment,  "  that  I  will  do 
without  Dinah ;  and  the  nine  shillings  per  week  I  pay 
her  shall  be  appropriated  to  the  payment  of  my  foolish 
debt.  I  need  to  feel  the  folly  every  day,  and  such  an 
experience  will  entirely  cure  me." 
17 


194  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

The  word  was  suited  to  the  deed,  and  black  Dinah 
was  dismissed.  Some  of  the  useless  trumpery  has  since 
"been  disposed  of  in  an  auction  room,  and  Netty  has  no 
little  blue-covered  book  now  —  but  the  New  England 
Primer ! 

As  the  occurrence  does  not  date  far  back,  we  cannot 
tell  what  will  be  the  result ;  but  at  present  the  young 
wife  is  doing  her  own  work,  to  the  astonishment  of  her 
morning  visitors,  determined  to  be  just,  in  future,  to  her 
husband's  wishes. 

The  little  "  pass-book  "  is  frequently  of  great  service 
with  experienced  housekeepers ;  but  the  common  propen 
sity  to  take  more  than  is  necessary,  because  payment  is 
delayed  a  few  weeks,  often  swells  the  amount  far  beyond 
our  expectation.  In  little  trifles,  large  amounts  will 
accumulate ;  and  I  once  heard  the  wife  of  a  poor  attorney 
remark  it  was  no  trouble  to  her  to  have  company,  she 
had  only  to  send  to  the  provision  store  and  grocery,  to 
get  all  her  wants  supplied  :  but  those  bills  are  unsettled 
to  this  day  !  Honest  tradesmen  are  thus  cheated  of  their 
dues,  and  appetites  are  pampered  with  luxuries  which 
should  never  be  indulged  in,  unless  there  are  means  to 
pay  for  them.  The  credit  system,  honorably  carried  on, 
may  be  useful ;  but  a  box  of  berries  for  which  we  pay 
twenty-five  cents,  does  not  leave  so  disagreeable  a  flavor 
as  that  for  which  I  am  to  pay  two  shillings  when  the 
account  is  rendered.  Thus  we  live  and  learn. 


POSTERITY. 

" WHAT  are  you  planting  those  trees  for?"  inquired 
a  young  stripling  of  a  venerable  man.  "You  will  never 
live  to  eat  the  fruit,  nor  yet  to  see  them  blossom." 

"  If  I  do  not,"  replied  the  old  man,  "you  may;  and 
if  you  do  not,  somebody  will ;  and  so  I  shall  confer  a 
benefit  to  posterity." 

"  I  love  my  ease  too  well,"  remarked  the  young  man, 
"to  work  for  unknown  beings." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  retorted  the  aged  man ;  "I  pity  you, 
and  if  the  fruit  of  my  labor  should  come  to  maturity  in 
my'  lifetime,  you  shall  have  a  portion  of  it." 

The  youth  was  so  struck  at  the  picture  of  disinterest 
edness,  that  he  ever  after  became  a  cheerful  worker  for 
posterity. 

The  old  man  lived,  and  age  neither  bowed  his  frame 
nor  "  abated  his  natural  force,"  and  the  trees  he  planted 
flourished  and  brought  forth  fruit.  True  to  his  promise, 
when  he  first  gathered  the  fruit  he  took  a  portion  of  the 
ripest  and  best  to  his  friend,  who  lived  at  some  distance 
fnjm  his  dwelling,  and  when  he  arrived,  thus  addressed 
him: 

"Yroung  man,  the  first  gatherings  from  the  trees  I 
planted  for  posterity  I  have  brought  to  your  table ;  and 


196  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

with  it  I  have  brought,  likewise,  an  old  man's  counsel. 
Never  hesitate  to  work,  at  any  period  of  life.  It  may 
be  the  benefit  will  not  come  to  thyself;  but  always  re 
member,  the  fruits  of  thy  labor  will  be  a  blessing  to  pos 
terity." 

The  young  man  thanked  the  sire  for  his  gentle  re 
proof,  and  heeded  the  lesson.  What  he  spent  before  in 
luxury,  he  laid  by  as  a  sacred  trust,  either  to  benefit  the 
present  age,  or  to  be  a  blessing  to  those  who  came  after 
him.  He  died,  and  a  large  property  was  given  to  be 
nevolent  enterprises ;  so  that  to  this  day  many  bless  his 
memory. 

Is  not  this  a  rebuke  to  those  who  selfishly  expend  in 
personal  gratification  the  wealth  of  which  they  are  stew 
ards  ?  Let  each  ask  himself,  ' '  What  have  I  done  to 
benefit  my  fellow-men  ?  ' ' 


THE  FARM  NEAR  THE  DEPOT. 

SOMEWHERE  about  the  spring  of  1849,  the  health  of 
Mrs.  Frink  began  to  decline.  She  was  yellow  as  the 
dandelion  that  sprung  up  in  her  pathway,  and  weak  as 
the  tender  violet  in  its  premature  bloom.  She  consulted 
with  her  family  physician  what  course  of  life  would  be 
most  likely  to  result  in  a  permanent  benefit.  He  talked 
of  a  sea- voyage ;  but  how  could  she  leave  her  young 
family?  Of  a  season  at  Havana;  but  how  could  her 
husband  leave  his  business  ?  We  all  know,  likewise,  that 
unless  we  can  leave  dull  care  behind  us,  or  take  it  with 
us,  no  benefit  can  accrue  to  a  weak  stomach. 

Finally,  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  retire  upon 
a  farm,  somewhere  near  the  sea-shore,  on  account  of 
the  salubrity  of  the  air,  and  the  double  benefit  which 
would  thus  accrue  to  the  little  Frinks.  But  where  was 
such  a  place  to  be  found  ?  It  must  be  easily  accessible 
from  the  city,  for  Mr.  Frink  by  no  means  thought  of  relin 
quishing  his  business  in  the  metropolis.  Indeed,  his 
means  would  not  permit  him  to  do  so,  had  he  desired  it. 
Now,  there  were  several  indispensable  things  to  be  secured 
by  this  purchase  of  a  farm.  It  must  have  a  neat,  sub 
stantial  dwelling-house  upon  it,  and  out-houses  to  match  ; 
well  divided  ' '  into  pasturage,  woodland  and  tillage ; ' ' 
17* 


198  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

then  an  experienced  farmer  must  be  secured  to  take 
charge  of  it ;  and,  above  all,  it  must  be  near  the  depot. 
This  was  a  prime  consideration.  Of  course,  after  arriving 
at  these  conclusions,  all  the  eyes  of  the  family  were  turned 
to  the  public  journals,  and  directed  under  the  caption, 
"  Farms  to  sell."  Nearly  a  week  passed  before  one 
offered  having  the  requisite  conveniences ;  and  to  show 
that  such  an  one  was  now  presented,  we  copy  the  adver 
tisement,  verbatim. 

"  BEAUTIFUL   COUNTRY-SEAT  FOR   SALE. 

"The  well-known  estate  of  Mr.  Oliver  Shaft,  situated 
in  Oakdale,  eight  miles  from  the  city,  is  offered  for  sale. 
It  is  in  the  heart  of  the  village,  on  a  beautiful  slope  over 
looking  the  sea,  commanding  an  extensive  view  of  the 
shipping  and  intervening  agricultural  scenery ;  the  farm 
contains  about  thirty  acres  of  prime  land,  all  of  the  very 
best  quality  for  cultivation,  and  can  be  improved  by  a 
gentleman  of  fortune,  for  a  summer  or  permanent  resi 
dence,  as  he  may  require.  The  terms  of  payment  can  be 
made  easy,  as  a  part  of  the  purchase-money  may  remain 
on  mortgage,  or  the  whole  would  be  exchanged  for  real 
estate  in  the  city." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Frink,  "  I  believe  this  is  just  the 
place  for  us,  after  all;"  and  again  she  read  over  the 
advertisement.  "  Stop,"  said  she,  "  I  have  omitted  one 
thing ;  it  adds,  l  within  a  few  rods  of  the  depot.'  At 
any  rate,  we  will  see  this  place,  and  if  arrangements  can 
be  made,  I  should  have  no  sort  of  objection  to  disposing 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  199 

of  our  city  residence.  It  is  not  probable  I  shall  ever 
desire  to  return." 

"  Women  jump  at  conclusions,"  said  Mr.  Frink. 

That  afternoon  passage  was  taken  in  the  cars  for  Oak- 
dale.  Both  father  and  mother,  with  Jamie  and  little 
Alva,  and  Hitty  Frink,  all  alighted  in  a  few  moments  at 
Oakdale.  With  an  eager  curiosity,  they  cast  a  look  in 
every  direction  for  their  new  home ;  but  —  could  it  be 
possible  ?  —  all  the  one  which  could  any  way  answer  the 
description,  was  on  yonder  hill,  a  dilapidated  old  castle 
of  a  house,  with  falling  out-buildings,  and  this  was  the 
"Shaft  place!  "  "  How  unlike  the  advertisement!" 
remarked  Mrs.  Frink. 

' '  Nothing  was  said  about  the  buildings,  if  I  recollect 
rightly,"  replied  Mr.  Frink. 

Mr.  Oliver  Shaft  was  seen,  in  his  long  dressing-gown, 
seated  upon  the  piazza,  reading  his  newspaper,  for  it  was 
a  mild  spring  day,  as  they  proceeded  towards  the  house. 

"We  wish  to  take  a  survey  of  your  grounds,"  said 
Mr.  Frink,  "  with  the  intention  of  becoming  purchasers; 
but  the  dilapidated  look  of  the  buildings  has  rather  put 
the  veto  upon  my  wife's  intention."  Mrs.  Frink  here 
coughed  violently,  and  thought  the  sea-breeze  too  bracing. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Squire  Shaft,  "  our  sons  have  all 
settled  in  the  city,  and  their  mother  is  anxious  to  follow 
them ;  none  of  them  took  a  liking  to  farming,  and,  as  we 
are  getting  a  little  advanced  in  life,  I  being  turned  of 
seventy,  and  my  wife  being  not  far  from  that  corner,  we 
thought  we  would  dispose  of  our  farm." 

Mrs.  Shaft,  a  large,  fleshy  old  lady,  with  a  rubicund 
face,  now  appeared.  She  curtsied,  and  remarked,  "  She 


200  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

really  hoped  they  were  people  who  meant  to  purchase, 
for  she  was  heartily  tired  of  showing  the  house  to  people 
who  came  jist  for  curiosity." 

They  fully  explained  the  object  of  their  visit,  and  the 
old  lady  commenced  her  labors.  "  Here,"  said  she,  throw 
ing  open  an  old  door,  that  the  wet  weather  made  swing 
very  reluctantly,  "here  is  a  large,  nice  room,  look 
ing  right  out  on.  the  sea,  ships  and  all  —  beautiful  and 
airy.  Our  Dorcas  was  married  here,  and  she  has  made 
out  so  poorly,  it  never  seems  so  pleasant  to  me  since; "  and 
a  deep  sigh  was  heard.  ' '  And  here  is  a  room  for  yarbs 
and  clutter  —  it  was  made  for  a  china  closet,  I  spose,  but 
I  never  kept  any  in  it.  And  this  is  our  Thomas's  bed 
room  when  he  comes  out  of  a  night  or  so ;  and  this  is  my 
old  man's  and  my  room ;  there  is  the  sitting-room,  and 
here  is  a  kind  of  back  parlor.  The  next  story  has  eight 
chambers,  besides  the  ell,  where  the  man  sleeps ;  it 's  a 
monstrous  house,"  she  concluded,  "  and  a  sight  of  work 
to  keep  it  clean."  As  it  bore  no  marks  of  being  kept  so, 
how  did  the  old  lady  know  how  to  calculate  ?  To  be 
sure,  it  bore  marks  of  former  grandeur ;  but,  scantily 
furnished,  and  with  numberless  signs  of  decay,  it  did 
look  uninviting.  But,  thought  Mr.  Frink,  if  it  can  be 
bought  for  a  bargain,  I  will  take  it ;  repairs  can  be  made, 
and  that  pasture  out  back  might  be  divided  into  house- 
lots,  and  sold  at  a  grand  speculation. 

Mrs.  Frink  did  not  seem  so  much  elated  with  her 
prospects.  The  house  was  old  and  dirty,  and  a  great  job 
it  would  be  to  make  it  look  "genteel."  "  But,  then," 
she  kept  repeating,  "  it  is  so  near  the  depot !  "  "  I  've 
found  that  out,  to  my  sorrow  I  "  remarked  old  lady  Shaft. 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  201 

"  Tut,  tut,  wife,"  replied  the  old  man,  "you  are  getting 
old  and  clumsy  to  wait  on  visitors ;  I  dare  say  this  lady 
delights  to  entertain  them." 

"  So  do  I,"  continued  the  old  dame;  "  but  who  wants 
Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  just  for  their  own  convenience, 
when  there  's  not  a  mite  of  friendship  in  'em  1 " 

Mrs.  Frink  said,  how  forcibly  that  remark  reminded 
her  of  her  mother's  sayings ;  she  supposed  all  old  people 
felt  so  about  too  much  company ;  for  her  own  part,  she 
hated  to  be  alone. 

But  the  price ;  that  was  the  desideratum.  The  old 
man  asked  ten  thousand  dollars.  The  depot-master  said 
it  could  be  bought  for  a  great  deal  less  money;  and 
how  much  less  he  promised  to  ascertain  and  inform  Mr. 
Frink  the  following  week.  But  did  they  really  want  it 
at  any  price  ?  Those  large,  open  rooms  rose  before  Mrs. 
Frink,  and  she  imagined  how  the  wind  would  whistle 
in  a  violent  storm  through  the  interstices ;  but  then  it 
was  airy,  and  it  could  be  made  to  do. 

The  following  week  Mr.  Frink  came  home  with  the 
title  deeds,  and  told  his  wife  the  purchase  was  secured, 
provided  she  signed  her  right  of  dower  in  their  present 
home ;  for  they  had  made  an  exchange  nearly  even,  and 
he  considered  it  a  decided  bargain. 

In  a  month  after  they  were  at  Oakdale;  but  Mr. 
Frink  looked  dissatisfied,  and  well  he  might,  for,  upon 
reexamination  of  the  deeds,  he  found  that  pasture  he  in 
tended  to  divide  into  lots,  was  "  to  be  kept  forever  open, 
subject  to  no  buildings  thereupon."  Strange  such  a 
clause  should  have  slipped  his  eye  ! 

Previously,  however,  to  Mrs.  Frink's  leaving  the  city, 


202  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

she  called  upon  all  her  acquaintances,  and  most  cordially 
invited  .them  to  her  residence  at  Oakdale,  adding  the 
great  convenience  she  enjoyed  of  living  near  the  depot, 
subjecting  them  to  no  extra  inconveniences. 

The  mechanics,  carpenters  and  masons,  were  all  there. 
Mr.  Frink  thought  it  best  his  family  should  be  on 
the  spot  to  superintend  the  improvements;  but,  Avhat 
with  the  dampness  and  exposure,  little  Alva  was  seized 
with  the  scarlatina,  Jamie  with  a  croup,  and  the  little 
girl  with  the  measles !  Yet  this  movement  was  all 
made  to  benefit  Mrs.  Frink  !  And  now  she  must  have 
her  city  doctor;  nobody  else  was  acquainted  with  the 
constitutions  of  her  children,  and  the  old  nurse  and  she 
did  so  long  for  the  friendly  attentions  of  her  old  neighbor 
hood.  She  felt  among  strangers ;  and  Nelly,  the  cook, 
had  already  announced  her  intention  of  leaving.  A  man 
and  his  wife  had  taken  the  farm  upon  shares,  and  very 
difficult  people  were  they  likely  to  prove.  Mr.  Frink' s 
share  of  the  butter  was  almost  always  expended  in  cream, 
for  the  visitors  now  began  to  find  the  way  out.  The 
loneliness  that  Mrs.  Frink  feared,  she  was  not  likely  to 
realize ;  people  whom  she  scarcely  called  upon  now  came 
for  regular  visits,  and  not  a  few  maiden  ladies  were 
always  .on  hand.  And  then  Mr.  Frink  was  away  from 
the  dinner-table,  — he  could  not  leave  his  business  until 
five  o'clock.  — and  what  a  care  and  additional  burden  thus 
fell  upon  the  wife's  shoulders !  The  children  greatly 
took  advantage  of  their  father's  absence,  and  Hitty  and 
Alva  required  constant  checks  at  the  table.  And  then 
there  were  always  some  unexpected  guests,  and  when 
sufficient  provision  was  made  for  their  own  family,  the 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  208 

extra  company  must  be  civilly  treated,  and  ten  chances 
to  one  the  provision-store  was  closed,  and  this  threw  Mrs. 
Frink  into  a  complete  panic.  Indeed,  before  a  single 
quarter  had  passed,  she  wished  herself  in  the  wilds  of 
Vermont,  rather  than  so  near  the  depot. 

"  Who  could  have  thought  it,"  said  she  to  a  friend, 
confidentially,  ' '  that  old  Captain  Beers  and  his  daughter 
would  have  come  here  to  stay  a  week  ;  and  Susan  Rivers 
and  her  child,  because  it  was  teething  and  so  trouble 
some,  and  Mrs.  Snyders  and  her  adopted  nephew,  just  to 
smell  the  sea-breezes  ?  And  all  these  I  have  had  at  one 
time  !  Mr.  Frink  was  in  New  York,  and  our  man  actu 
ally  told  me  he  could  not  raise  vegetables  enough  to 
supply  our  table,  leaving  his  share  out  of  the  question. 
Why,  to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  Mrs.  Smith,  I  am  worn 
to  death.  I  have  not  had  time  to  walk  down  by  the  shore 
since  I  came  here ;  it 's  nothing  but,  '  Ma,  somebody  is 
coming  with  a  travelling-bag  and  valise.'  And  then 
they  are  so  very  glad  to  see  me,  and  admire  the  place 
so  much — 'It  is  so  roomy,  and  so  airy,  so  delightful,  why, 
Mrs.  Frink,  I  think  you  must  be  perfectly  happy.'  What 
can  I  do  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Frink,  with  the  deepest  solici 
tude.  "It's  a  thousand  times  worse  than  being  bored 
to  death  with  country  cousins  in  the  city." 

This  was  "  farming  it,"  with  a  vengeance.  The  man 
brought  in  a  bill  in  the  autumn  far  exceeding  the  rent 
and  cost  of  living  in  the  city  ;  taxes  were  nearly  in  pro 
portion,  fuel  was  at  the  same  rate,  and  the  freightage  of 
all  the  groceries  must  be  paid  over  the  railroad.  Mr. 
Frink  had  a  season  ticket  for  his  family,  dined  at  a  res 
taurant,  paid  extra  for  doctor  and  nurse,  they  were 


204  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

deprived  of  many  privileges,  and  all  this  to  own  a  farm 
near  the  depot. 

And  when  he  would  sell  or  let  it,  what  a  drug  it  be 
came  !  Nobody  from  the  city  wanted  it ;  and  the  fol 
lowing  year,  as  I  passed,  there  was  registered  in  flaming 
letters,  "  Eetreat  for  Invalids." 

Is  not  this  a  hint  to  city  people  who  are  on  the  look-out 
for  farms  ?  Uncle  Richard's  saying  is  just  as  true  now 
as  ever,  "  It's  always  best  to  look  before  you  leap.'' 


A  TRYING   CASE. 

ARTHUR  BRANCH,  Esq.,  returned  to  the  city  from  a 
fashionable  watering-place  to  consult  with  his  attorney 
respecting  the  laws  of  divorce.  It  is  thought  he  finds 
them  more  stringent  than  he  anticipated.  He  was  driven 
to  this  expedient  at  the  suggestion  of  a  female  friend,  who 
has  interposed  her  meddlesome  propensities  between 
Mr.  Branch  and  wife.  It  appears  Branch  was  mar 
ried  more  than  a  year  ago  to  a  city  aristocrat.  She 
had  been  the  pride  of  her  wealthy  parents  upwards  of 
twenty  summers ;  had  coquetted  at  New  York,  and 
danced  the  polka  at  Saratoga  ;  had  stood  on  Table  Rock 
a  few  days  before  it  submerged,  and,  at  the  time  of  her 
engagement  with  Arthur  Branch,  Esq.,  was  undergoing 
a  process  of  flirtation  with  one  Don  Jose,  a  Spaniard,  now 
banished  by  the  "  foray  "  to  the  mines,  for  ten  years  of 
solitary  life. 

Mr.  Branch  can  bring  sufficient  witnesses  to  prove  that 
he  has  in  all  respects  deported  himself  as  a  kind,  loving, 
forgiving  and  forgetting  married  man.  His  purse  has 
always  hung  outside  his  pocket,  and  its  contents  have  been 
most  freely  expended.  The  main  difficulty  seems  to  lie 
in  the  discovery  that  Branch  made  a  blunder  in  marry 
ing.  He  supposed  his  wife  to  be  an  angel,  and  she 
proves  to  be  a  woman. 
18 


206  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

Soon  after  their  marriage  Mrs.  Branch  proposed  a  trip 
to  Europe.  Her  husband  assented ;  and  after  his  ador 
able  "  sposa  "  had  consulted  with  Parisian  milliners  and 
London  dressmakers  to  her  heart's  content,  she  declared 
her  willingness  to  return  without  a  sight  of  St.  Peter's, 
or  a  sail  upon  the  Rhine  ;  thus  showing  that  her  love  of 
the  frivolous  overcame  that  of  the  sublime. 

Mr.  Branch  had  no  sooner  taken  his  American  resi 
dence,  and  issued  cards  for  his  first  levee,  than  Mrs. 
Branch  complained  of  "  confined  quarters, '?  and  proposed 
taking  her  summer  residence  at  some  watering-place. 
Since  then  she  has  become  a  perfect  belle.  Her  first 
conquest  seemed  to  be  the  favor  of  a  young  sprig  in  the 
medical  faculty,  and,  under  pretence  of  a  singular  hang 
nail  on  the  little  finger  of  her  left  hand,  Mr.  Branch  has 
been  obliged  to  pay  for  medical  advice  upwards  of  two 
hundred  dollars  ! 

All  this  he  has  borne  with  lamb-like  resignation.  He  has 
never  crossed  his  wife  in  a  single  particular.  Just  before 
the  railroad  jubilee,  however,  he  did  speak.  Then  he  ex 
pressed  the  desire  to  open  his  metropolitan  residence,  and 
to  invite  a  few  of  his  select  country  friends,  illuminate  at 
evening,  and  end  the  festivities  in  a  manner  suited  to  the 
august  occasion.  The  simple  annunciation  of  this  fact 
threw  his  wife  off  her  guard.  She  raved  like  a  lioness. 
"  Did  he  suppose  she  was  going  to  soil  her  best  drawing- 
rooms  to  please  the  '  blue  noses ; '  or  that  she  was  going 
to  give  the  use  of  her  best  chambers  to  country  cousins 
who  were  boorish  enough  to  sleep  in  barns  1 ' ' 

Branch  did  not  urge  the  matter.  His  Monongahcla 
whiskey  reposed  in  its  cask,  his  pale  Sherry  lay  still  in 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  207 

the  quarter-cask,  his  Madeira  and  Hock  were  encircled 
with  cobwebs,  and  Branch  felt  like  one  of  the  "invited 
guests."  Worse  than  all,  his  wife  kept  the  keys  ! 

If  Lopez  had  dreaded  a  contest  as  much  as  our  friend 
Branch,  he  would  never  have  thought  of  possessing  Cuba. 
Somebody  told  him  a  divorce  might  be  obtained;  but 
this  was  a  female  friend  who  had  an  eye  to  becoming  his 
housekeeper.  Unquestionably  enough  has  been  done, 
but  how  can  it  be  proved  ?  Besides,  who  wants  to  tell 
what  they  do  know  ? 

The  attorney  advised  Branch  to  return  to  his  wife, 
conciliate  her  confidence,  agree  upon  some  terms  amica 
bly,  and  make  the  best  of  a  bad  job.  Branch  paid  ten 
dollars  for  the  advice,  wiped  his  eyes  with  an  embroidered 
handkerchief,  and  added,  with  a  dolorous  sigh,  "  but  I 
am  afraid  she  will  pick  my  eyes  out." 

The  last  telegraphic  account  reports  the  matter  "all 
settled."  Branch  holds  the  reins  while  his  lady  and  a 
Spanish  gentleman  sit  upon  the  back  seat.  She  eats 
boiled  custard  with  a  silver  fork,  while  Branch  uses  a 
spoon.  The  Spanish  gentleman  has  heavy  hair  under 
his  chin,  and  huge  whiskers ;  Branch  has  a  smooth  face, 
and  shaves  clean.  These  are  only  outside  differences ; 
but  things  of  weightier  consequence  we  pass  by.  The 
moral  of  our  story  consists  in  this  :  Never  marry  a  co 
quet  for  her  beauty,  nor  an  aristocrat  for  her  money. 
Never  believe  in  walking  divinities,  nor  terrestial  angels. 
But  should  you  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  make  such  a 
mistake,  pocket  the  knowledge,  and  never  divulge  the 
fact ;  for  everybody  laughs  over  the  rehearsal  of  family 
jars,  and  nobody  pities  a  married  man. 


THE  EARLY  SPRING  FLOWERS. 

THAT  little  bunch  of  crocuses  !  They  shot  up  from 
the  cold,  damp  earth  which  encased  their  roots,  and,  all 
delicately  attired  in  their  pure  virgin  whiteness,  seemed 
to  cast  an  upward  glance,  as  if  by  instinct  taught  that 
Heaven  provides  for  the  defenceless.  They  were  the 
admiration  of  every  passer-by  ;  little  fairy  children,  who 
looked  through  the  interstices  Avhich  enclosed  them,  would 
fain  have  borne  them  away  as  the  earliest  of  spring  flow 
ers  ;  and  more  matured  lovers  of  the  beautiful  paused 
and  gazed  with  wonder,  that  beneath  such  an  inclement 
sky,  so  courageous  a  little  bunch  of  crocuses  should  open 
to  the  first  balmy  influences  of  spring  !  Yet  there  was 
an  association  of  sadness  which  pervaded  the  thoughts  of 
some  beholders.  They  bloomed  beneath  a  deserted  man 
sion,  whose  owner  was  dead ;  and  the  gardener,  who, 
years  ago,  had  so  enriched  their  bed  of  earth,  he,  too,  had 
departed  !  In  the  window  just  above  them,  bright  eyes 
had  looked  upon  their  early  unfoldings,  and  carefully  had 
the  protecting  shield  been  thrown  around  them  when  the 
hoar-frost  and  icy  snow  had  bound  them  in  their  winter 
sluggishness.  Yet  early  was  that  warm  covering  re 
moved,  and  the  earth  stirred  gently,  and  the  sun  then 
shot  down  some  of  those  slanting,  but  warm  rays,  which 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  209 

quickened  their  germination ;  and  with  what  delight  the 
fair  maiden  looked  upon  the  little  parterre  of  flowers 
which  so  early  met  her  gaze  !  And  now  she,  too,  was 
gone,  and  the  magnificent  mansion  was  laid  in  ruins,  and 
the  hand  of  improvement  had  torn  down  its  massy  walls, 
and  the  sound  of  the  hammer  was  heard  demolishing  its 
once  fair  proportions,  and  rough  boards  were  protruded 
over  our  little  flower-bed,  and  no  kind  glance  from  the 
owner  ever  recognized  their  beauty ;  yet  still  they 
bloomed  on,  and  even  added  a  new  tinge  to  their  petals, 
for  the  purple  dye  was  now  intermixed  Avith  the  soft 
white,  and  their  blended  colors  sweetly  attested  how  true 
is  nature  to  the  laws  which  govern  even  the  humblest  of 
her  productions  !  And  do  we  see  no  simile  in  natural 
to  spiritual  beauty  ? 

The  proprietor  of  that  mansion  left  a  daughter.  Her 
spirit  was  as  guileless  as  the  snow-drop  she  loved  to  tend ; 
her  voice  sweetly  harmonized  with  the  lute  she  so  en- 
chantingly  played,  and  the  soft  touches  of  nature  and 
art  seemed  to  ally  her  to  the  angelic  rather  than  mortal 
elements  of  humanity.  She  was  the  admiration  of  all ; 
yet  there  was  no  hauteur  of  demeanor,  no  arrogance  of 
spirit,  no  supercilious  scorn ;  but  she  gently  moved  in 
that  upward  path  which  knows  no  deviation  from  the  dic 
tates  of  duty  and  filial  affection. 

Scores  of  wealthy  young  men  danced  in  the  joyous 
sunbeams  which  her  cheerful  spirit  threw  around  her ; 
yet  she  refused  them  all  for  the  high-toned,  lofty  worth 
of  one  born  in  obscurity,  yet  destined  to  be  great,  because 
he  improved  the  matchless  wealth  which  lay  in  his  yet 
undeveloped  resources.  And  now  she  wa?  sneered  at  by 
18* 


210  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

those  who  once  bowed  in  adoration  at  her  fireside  ;  cold 
glances  of  recognition  came  from  those  who  once  deemed 
her  the  fairest  of  maidens.  Yet,  possessed  of  the  entire 
affection  of  him  to  whom  she  had  plighted  her  vows  of 
eternal  constancy,  what  cared  she  for  the  glances  of  mere 
fashionable  adoration '?  Like  the  early  spring  flowers,  she 
was  unobtrusive,  and  felt  defended  by  the  strength  of  his 
affection,  of  whose  fervor  and  unchanging  confidence  she 
had  the  deepest  assurance.  The  world  looked  on  and  talked 
of  the  disparity  between  their  earthly  stations ;  they 
spoke  contemptuously  of'  those  lowly  born  being  thus 
brought  to  mingle  in  palaces ;  yet  the  lover  was  unmoved 
by  such  declamation,  and  slowly  and  steadily  he  pursued 
his  way,  climbing  up  the  hill  of  science,  and  implanting 
such  deep  footsteps,  that  the  imprints  were  not  worn  out 
by  light  feet  that  followed  after  him. 

Years  passed  by,  and  the  marriage  day  approached. 
The  owner  of  the  mansion •"  was  gathered  to  his  fathers;" 
the  wealth  of  the  father  had  descended  to  that  only  child ; 
yet  she  chose  not  to  keep  up  the  ancestral  palace,  for  the 
pomp  and  vain  glare  of  heartless  friends  had  sickened  her 
of  gorgeous  splendors.  She  cared  not  for  the  prismatic 
colorings  of  the  rich  chandelier,  nor  yet  for  the  frescoed 
walls,  which  an  artist  so  elaborately  executed.  She  chose 
simple  nature  in  a  suburban  home ;  and  there,  amidst 
the  chirping  of  insects,  ani  the  songs  of  the  birds,  and 
the  lovely  summer-house,  and  the  adjacent  green-house 
of  rare  exotics,  she  loved  to  commune  with  nature.  Her 
husband,  too,  with  his  early  rural  taste  unvitiated,  gently 
stole  away  from  the  cares  of  his  office,  and,  at  early  twi 
light,  the  happy  pair  seemed  entranced  with  the  love  of 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  211 

the  beautiful  which  surrounded  them  —  never  forgetting 
the  Giver  of  such  bounty,  while  overshadowed  with  his 
beneficence.  But  they  lived  not  the  lives  of  mere  her 
mits,  who  selfishly  enjoy,  but  do  not  bestow.  Their  home 
was  the  resort  of  the  intelligent  and  inquiring  ;  the  stu 
dent  was  there  aided  and  cheered  ;  the  heavy-hearted  was 
lightened  beneath  such  genial  quietude,  and  the  pure  in 
heart  seemed  to  bask  in  one  long  sunshine  of  delight.  Emi 
nent  in  his  profession,  studious,  unostentatious,  freely 
dispensing,  yet  always  drinking  themselves  from  the  fount 
of  that  happiness  which  never  cloys,  in  a  vine-clad  dwel 
ling,  sheltered  by  overarching  trees,  lives  she  who  ten 
anted  the  mansion,  and  he  who  was  born  in  the  cottage  ; 
conclusively  showing  that,  if  true  to  the  laws  which  alone 
can  dignify  our  nature,  there  need  be  no  disparity  be 
tween  our  condition  in  society  ;  for  he  is  only  lowly  born 
whose  life  and  actions  declare  him  such.  The  clump  of 
spring  flowers  will  rise  as  freshly  from  the  cottage  of  her 
whose  scanty  pittance  barely  supplies  her  daily  bread,  as 
beneath  the  windows  of  the  most  opulent  mansion ;  there 
fore,  take  courage,  ye  of  ambitious  aim,  since  lofty  worth 
inquires  not  concerning  the  height  of  the  dwelling  which 
was  its  birthplace. 


LIGHT   AND   SHADE. 

IT  was  at  the  close  of  one  of  those  delicious  days  in 
autumn,  when  the  foliage  of  the  overarching  trees  looks 
like  pyramids  of  gold,  when  we  tread  lightly  upon  the 
sward  where  the  rustling  leaves  have  thickly  fellow- 
shipped  together,  and  our  souls  are  given  to  memories  of 
love,  or  dwell  sadly,  yet  tenderly,  upon  some  object  of 
affection  whom  death  or  distance  has  separated ;  on  the 
evening  of  such  a  day,  that  a  mother  and  her  two  daugh 
ters  sought  a  retreat  amid  the  recesses  of  decaying 
nature,  to  enjoy  a  friendly  conversation  upon  the  son  and 
brother,  over  whom  so  many  sympathies  had  been  ex 
pended  since  he  had  sought  in  a  Californian  home  to  pro 
cure  for  them  the  glittering  dust  which  his  inexperience 
had  suggested  to  him  was  the  panacea  of  all  temporal  ills. 

Never  was  a  fairer  specimen  of  manly  bearing,  of 
courageous  heart  and  high  resolves,  exiled  from  the  home 
of  his  infancy.  Full  of  promise,  full  of  magnanimity, 
with  an  heroic  soul,  he  plunged  into  the  all-absorbing 
gulf  of  ambition  and  the  attainment  of  a  fortune.  He 
had  bidden  farewell  to  the  church  where  he  was  baptized, 
to  the  green  where  he  sported  when  a  boy,  and  in  a  huge 
ship,  which  contained  innocence  and  iniquity,  purity  and 
crime,  he  had  embarked  for  the  Eldorado  of  his  hopes. 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  213 

Letters  had  been  received  since  his  departure,  wherein 
the  common  phrase  was  inserted,  he  was  "  doing  well :  " 
miners  had  returned,  who  brought  the  report  that  he  was 
iron-hearted  and  accumulative ;  pieces  of  the  metal  in  its 
pristine  state  had  been  sent,  too,  as  precious  relics  to  that 
mother  and  sister ;  and  now  eighteen  months  had  elapsed 
since  the  parting  day,  that  sad  and  tearful  day  when 
silence  reigned  so  profoundly  through  the  household. 

Now  all  the  despairing  fears  had  yielded  to  brighter 
hopes.  The  last  intelligence  announced  that  he  should 
soon  embark  for  home ;  that  his  bags  of  gold  were  filled, 
and  that  a  happy  meeting  awaited  them  when  he  should 
recount  strange  tales  of  suffering,  while  he  should  be 
luxuriating  upon  the  already  gotten  treasure. 

At  this  still  hour  the  mother  and  sister  had  stepped 
out  to  think  on  the  son  and  brother. 

Mary !  she  was  a  delicate,  fragile  creature,  hardly- 
ripened  into  womanhood  ;  her  hair  of  a  chestnut  brown 
waving  in  massive  ringlets  in  the  breeze,  while  her  lily 
face,  her  deep  blue  eyes  and  broad  forehead,  combined 
in  an  expression  of  intellectual  beauty,  upon  which  an 
artist  was  now  lavishing  his  skill  as  a  present  for  an  ab 
sent  friend  who  had  attended  that  brother. 

Emma !  she  was  fair,  and  more  mature.  Her  face 
presented  a  picture  of  never-ending  freshness ;  her  dark 
eyes  often  gleamed  with  moisture ;  and  these  words  came 
impetuously  from  her  lips: 

"  We  shall  be  so  happy,  mother,  when  Robert  returns, 
having  achieved  the  summit  of  his  ambition.  Our  cot 
tage  will  be  deserted,  I  suppose,  for  a  more  imposing 
dwelling.  What  a  specimen  of  architecture  brother  will 


214  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

exhibit  to  wonder-gazing  multitudes !  And  my  room 
will  look  out  upon  my  favorite  friend,  the  sea.  Yours, 
mother,  will  be  filled  with  sunshine  and  flowers ;  moss- 
roses  and  evergreens  will  contrast  strangely  with  our 
humble  daisies  in  broken  pots,  and  our  leafless  multiflora 
that  is  perishing  in  consequence  of  our  cold  room.  All 
these  events  will  surely  come  to  pass,  and  (she  started 
up)  the  fair-haired  Mary  shall  realize  a  bright  fulfilment 
of  my  dream. 

"  It  was  only  last  night  I  saw  Robert  in  my  sleep.  I 
was  sitting  at  a  piece  of  embroidery.  My  brother  was 
superintending  the  colors.  He  gave  a  singular  laugh, 
and  exclaimed,  '  0,  sister  !  life  is  just  like  your  many- 
colored  fancy  piece ;  light  and  shade  must  alternate  to 
give  full  eflect  to  the  picture,  —  and  so  is  the  reality  of 
life.'  I  am  sure  I  saw  him,  and  yet  I  know  it  is  all 
fancy."  The  young  girl  started,  even  then,  as  if  she 
heard  a  footstep. 

The  widowed  mother,  we  have  said,  was  there.  Her 
silver  hair  was  parted  back  from  a  mild  and  beaming 
face,  and  her  countenance  plainly  indicated  she  had  her 
fears,  and  her  daughters  their  hopes. 

"How  strange  it  is,"  said  she,  "that  we  have  had 
no  letters  by  the  last  arrivals  —  not  a  word  from  Robert, 
girls!" 

"  Perhaps  the  letters  are  intercepted,  or  delayed,  or  a 
thousand  casualties  may  have  befallen  them,"  said  the 
hopeful  children. 

They  strolled  along,  full  of  gayety  and  cheerful  prattle, 
when  Mary  suddenly  turned  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
mother's  shoulder. 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  215 

The  mother,  alarmed,  proposed  returning  back,  think 
ing  some  chill  in  this  autumnal  evening  had  seized  her 
daughter's  delicate  frame. 

"But  I  am  quite  well,  now,  mother." 

Yet  the  remembrance  of  that  strange  hallucination  still 
troubled  her.  She  never  revealed  with  what  force  some 
thing  checked  her  gayety;  and,  taught  from  childhood  to 
be  free  from  superstitious  misgivings,  she  chased  away 
the  gloomy  apprehension,  and  resumed  her  wonted  cheer 
fulness. 

It  was  in  deep  twilight  when  they  returned  home. 
Henry,  who  was  Robert's  friend,  and  accompanied  him, 
was  sitting  in  the  back  parlor.  The  sisters  each  laid 
hold  of  him.  but  his  eyes  were  downcast.  He  seemed  to 
avoid  their  gaze ;  his  sea-burnt  face  seemed  to  have  an 
unwonted  flush. 

"  My  son?  "  inquired  the  mother.  "  Our  brother  ?  " 
the  sisters. 

"Have  you  received  no  letters?"  said  Henry,  in  a 
quivering  voice.  He  endeavored  to  speak,  but  there  was 
a  choking  sensation  in  his  throat, 

Emma  stood  there ;  Mary  leaned  against  her ;  the 
mother's  face  was  white  as  a  shroud.  Robert  was  dead  ! 
The  gold  he  had  gathered  had  all  been  abstracted  by 
ruthless  savages ;  he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  disease  on 
board  the  ship,  as  he  was  returning,  and  his  body  was 
consigned  to  the  great  deep. 

Transformed  in  every  nerve  stood  that  late  hopeful 
family.  The  sisters  seemed  on  the  very  verge  of  mad 
ness  ;  but  the  mother  sank  on  her  knees  and  uttered  an 
inaudible  prayer. 


216  SUBSTANCE   AND    SIIADOAVS. 

The  light  and  shade  of  the  picture  now  stood  before 
them  !  But  was  the  end  all  shadow  7  Touched  Avith  a 
sense  of  the  perishing,  with  that  feeling  of  utter  inse 
curity,  the  mother  looked  above  for  comfort.  She  had 
felt  the  rough  gales  of  adversity ;  and  the  serene  expres 
sion  which  ere  long  pervaded  her  countenance,  told  the 
secret  of  her  faith  was  triumphant. 

And  now  a  dreary  aspect  opened  to  those  young  hearts. 
The  world  looked  cheerless  ;  existence  seemed  an  empty 
blank  ;  hope  a  mockery.  In  silence  they  bewailed  their 
sad  fate ;  in  the  depths  of  their  hearts  they  even  ques 
tioned  the  intentions  of  a  good  God. 

For  more  than  a  year  no  gleam  of  light  illumined 
their  dwelling.  Henry,  the  lover  of  Mary,  had  returned 
so  broken  in  health  and  so  low  in  pecuniary  matters,  that 
a  nearer  union  could  not  be  contemplated  for  years ;  and 
a  kind  of  secret  sadness  seemed  to  prey  upon  the  hearts 
of  the  two  who  usually  met  every  evening  to  bemoan  the 
fate  of  the  lost  Robert. 

It  was  now  a  year  since  the  tidings  were  communicated 
to  them.  Again,  toward  the  close  of  a  bleak  autumnal 
day,  the  three  young  friends  were  looking  from  a  western 
window,  when  a  form  was  seen  dimly  approaching  in  the 
distance.  Not  a  word  was  uttered.  Henry  was  lividly 
pale;  the  sisters  shook  like  aspen  leaves.  The  man 
approached  yet  nearer.  Merciful  heaven  !  What  do  I 
hear  ? 

"  Sisters,  I  have  come  at  last." 

An  electric  impulse  throbbed  through  their  hearts. 
Sobs,  tears,  incoherent  ejaculations,  followed.  In  the 
midst  of  this  scene  the  mother  entered.  For  a  moment 


SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS.  217 

she  looked,  and,  raising  her  hands  to  heaven,  she  articu 
lated,  in  a  husky  voice, 

"  Robert,  my  son  !  is  it  you  I  embrace 7  " 

His  lip  quivered,  but  his  manly  form  still  gave  evi 
dence  he  was  of  human  kind.  And  what  was  his 
explanation  ? 

Henry  and  Robert  had  separated  after  crossing  the 
Isthmus,  and  returned  by  different  routes.  While  at 
Panama,  Robert  consigned  all  his  gold  to  the  care  of  an 
American  captain.  His  ship  was  boarded  by  a  race  of 
outlaws,  who  pillaged  it  from  stem  to  stern,  and  made  off 
with  the  booty.  Robert  received  the  intelligence  just  as 
he  was  ready  to  sail  for  home,  and,  being  chagrined, 
resolved  to  return  to  the  mining  region ;  and,  being  well 
acquainted  Avith  localities,  established  himself  in  a  remote 
part,  inaccessible  to  transmitting  intelligence  by  mail. 
Here  he  assiduously  labored,  and  realized  a  handsome 
return.  Again  he  set  his  face  homeward,  and  this  time 
he  was  prospered  to  his  journey's  end. 

From  the  crew  of  the  pillaged  ship  Henry  had  acquired 
information  of  the  death  of  a  young  man  on  board  named 
Robert,  and  of  course  supposing  it  was  his  friend,  as  he 
believed  he  sailed  in  the  same  ship  with  his  gold,  no 
doubt  remained  but  he  was  the  dead  man  ! 

If  there  had  been  a  shadow  over  this  dwelling,  think 
you  there  was  no  sunshine  restored  ?  It  was  a  sight  upon 
which  angels  might  gaze,  to  see  the  grateful  emotions 
which  pervaded  this  household;  for  what  affliction  had 
failed  to  melt  and  subdue,  a  grateful  joy  made  them 
acknowledge  that  God  is  ever  the  merciful  dispenser  of 
light  and  shade. 

19 


INQUISITIVE   CHILDREN. 

"  I  WAS  always  brought  up  to  attend  church,  Fanny," 
said  Mrs.  Green,  to  her  newly-hired  domestic,  "and  I 
wish  you  to  do  the  same.  I  shall  require  of  you,  how 
ever,  to  attend  one  of  the  evangelical  order ;  for,  while  I 
pay  you  for  bodily  service,  remember  I  have  an  interest 
for  your  soul." 

Fanny  thought  she  had,  indeed,  found  a  mother,  and 
was  truly  thankful  for  her  new  place. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  "Ned "  was  called  early 
to  be  washed  and  dressed  for  the  Sunday  school ;  Dan 
was  to  repeat  his  lesson  before  leaving  home ;  and  the 
eldest  daughter,  who  was  teacher,  was  to  conduct  both 
children  to  church.  But  things  did  not  work  well.  The 
shoe-strings  broke,  the  boys'  collars  were  starched  so 
badly  that  they  purposely  rumpled  them  together ;  the 
lessons  were  very  poorly  committed,  and  the  breakfast 
was  not  ready  till  after  the  bell  rang  for  the  opening  of 
the  school.  Mrs.  Green  was  still  in  bed,  for  she  was  so 
wearied  with  weekly  services,  there  must  be  some  extra 
time  to  rest.  Ned  fretted  at  Dan,  and  Dan  threw  his 
pencil  at  Ned.  It  was  a  scene  of  great  confusion  for  a 
family  who  professedly  maintained  such  order.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Green,  by  dint  of  hurry  and  bluster,  equipped 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  219 

themselves  for  church.  Fanny  was  despatched,  leaving 
her  dishes  unwashed,  and  her  kitchen  in  confusion,  be 
cause  the  essential  duty  of  "attending  meeting"  demanded 
the  sacrifice.  Nothing  was  said,  and,  perhaps,  not  much 
thought,  about  carrying  a  right  spirit  into  the  sanctuary, 
if  the  body  were  only  placed  in  the  pew  ! 

A  cold  dinner  was  served.  Of  course,  Mrs.  Green 
allowed  no  cooking  on  the  Sabbath,  and  the  children 
were  allowed  no  natural  freedom  ;  their  business  was  to 
keep  still,  and  sit  cross-legged,  with  their  "primers"  or 
"  question-books  "  before  their  eyes ;  and,  naturally,  this 
was  a  dreaded  day  to  them.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Green  read 
their  prayer-book,  and  the  chapter  from  which  the  text 
was  taken ;  inquired  of  the  children  respecting  the  scholars 
present  at  the  Sabbath  school,  and  then  took  up  the 
religious  newspaper,  and  thus  gradually  prepared  the 
way  for  worldly  conversation.  They  had  done  all  that 
duty  demanded ;  had  been  to  church  all  day,  kept  the 
time  strictly,  and  now  began  to  unbend  their  thoughts 
from  things  above  to  things  beneath. 

"Husband,"  said  Mrs.  Green,  "  that  was  a  splendid 
shawl  Mrs.  Sawyer  wore  to-day.  I  wonder  if  Sawyer 
is  rich  7  They  are  a  family  that  seem  to  have  everything. 
Susan  wore  an  elegant  bonnet.  I  saw  just  such  a  one, 
for  which  they  charged  me  twelve  dollars.  And  did  you 
see  Mrs.  Draper's  scarf?  It  was  the  most  elegant  one  I 
ever  saw.  I  don't  see,  for  my  part,  how  people  contrive 
to  get  such  things.  I  'm  sure  we  could  not  afford  to 
dress  so." 

Dan  here  spoke  up  :  "  Mother,  Tom  Spencer  has  got 
a  beautiful  plaid  vest ;  won't  you  get  me  such  a  one  1 " 


220  SUBSTANCE    AND   SHADOWS. 

"  I  want  a  new  sack,"  said  Ned.  "  All  the  boys  dress 
better  than  I  do." 

"  Hush,  hush,  children  !  "  said  the  mother;  "  do  you 
know  what  day  it  is  1  Sabbath  days  were  not  made  to 
talk  about  dress.  Don't  you  know  what  the  command 
ment  says ;  six  days  shalt  thou  labor,  but  the  seventh.  &c.  ? 
What  did  grandpa  tell  you,  boys,  last  summer,  about 
keeping  Sunday?" 

"If  he  did  talk  so  good,"  said  Ned,  "  he  got  his  hay 
in  Sunday,  for  fear  of  a  shower.  How  came  he  to  do 
that?" 

"Boys!  boys!  what  are  you  talking  about?  Your 
grandpa  is  a  deacon,  and  a  very,  very  pious  man.  Never 
let  me  hear  you  question  his  doings." 

"  But,  mother,"  said  Ned,  "  you  talk  about  dress  on 
Sunday  with  father ;  what  is  the  harm  for  Dan  and  me 
to  do  so?" 

"  Children,  you  are  young.  Your  father  and  I  are 
privileged  to  say  what  we  please,  provided  we  talk  no 
evil.  We  merely  comment  upon  the  vanity  of  the  world, 
and  the  little  regard  people  pay  to  religious  duties. 
Mind  your  books,  and  not  listen  to  all  we  say."  The 
boys  winked  at  each  other  as  if  they  had  good  understand 
ings,  and  could  see  through  a  mill-stone. 

That  evening  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  subject 
of  lying.  Ned  wished  his  mother  to  define  to  him  the 
exact  meaning  of  falsehood. 

"  Why,"  said  the  mother,  "  it  means  when  we  wilfully 
and  intentionally  deceive  another.  If,  for  instance,  I  tell 
you  the  medicine  you  take  is  very  pleasant,  when  it  is 
very  offensive  and  nauseous,  it  would  be  a  lie ;  if  a 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  221 

neighbor  sends  to  me  to  lend  an  article,  and  I  say  I  have 
not  got  it,  when  I  have  it,  that,  too,  is  a  lie" — 

"  How  came  you,  then,"  said  Ned,  "  to  tell  Mrs. 
Moody  you  had  no  eggs,  when  there  was  a  firkin  full  in 
the  cellar?" 

"  Hush,  Ned  !  don't  interrupt  me  while  I  am  explain 
ing  to  your  brother.  Have  n't  I  told  you,  again  and 
again,  how  impolite  such  a  habit  is?  " 

"  But,  mother,  /want  an  explanation,  too." 

"  Order,  order,  Edmund !  "  said  the  father,  very  em 
phatically. 

"  Lying,  Daniel,  is  the  mark  of  a  weak  mind  and  a 
bad  heart.  I  hope  you  never  do  it,  my  son ;  and,  more 
than  this,  never  teach  your  associates  to  do  it,  to  screen 
you  from  justice." 

But  Dan  began  to  reason.  "Mother,  when  you 
direct  the  girl  who  tends  the  door,  to  say  you  are  '  not 
at  home,'  when  you  are  in  the  nursery,  is  not  that  a 
falsehood?" 

"  My  child,  there  are  certain  conventional  rules  in 
society,  which  are  allowable,  because  custom  sanctions 
them.  You  are  not  old  enough  to  reason  upon  such 
things  now." 

"  And,"  said  Ned,  "  when  you  say,  '  0,  dear  !  I  wish 
such  and  such  people  were  a  hundred  miles  off,'  and  go 
straight  into  the  parlor,  and  tell  them  '  how  glad  you  are 
to  see  them,  and  how  long  you  have  been  wishing  they 
would  call,'  is  not  that  a  falsehood?  " 

"  You  are  the  most  disposed  to  question,  Ned,  that  I 
ever  knew  a  boy.  I  tell  you,  boys,  once  for  all,  there 
are  certain  customs  in  sopiety  which  we  can  adopt,  with- 
1.9* 


222  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

out  feeling  we  have  transgressed  the  bounds  of  truth. 
Everybody  who  has  had  experience  knows  what  these 
things  mean  ;  but  unsophisticated  childen  do  not  under 
stand,  nor  should  they  inquire  into  such  matters.  Do 
as  I  tell  you,  children;  always  speak  the  truth,  and  keep 
the  Sabbath  day  holy,  and  you  will  be  blessed." 

This  conclusion  silenced  the  boys,  but  they  looked  very 
dissatisfied  with  the  reasoning. 


WHAT   WILL  PEOPLE   SAY? 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gill,  I  want  to  go  to  Washington  as  much 
as  anybody.  Nobody  would  like  to  be  introduced  to  the 
president  and  all  the  men  in  the  cabinet  more  than  my 
self.  But,  dear  me,  what  will  people  say  1  Everybody 
will  think  you  are  off  in  search  of  an  office,  and  how 
many  comments  will  be  made  upon  my  accompanying 
you  1  I  do  wish  I  lived  somewhere  that  people  did  n't 
talk  about  their  neighbors." 

"  That  would  be  a  region,  Mrs.  Gill,  that  never  came 
under  my  observation." 

"Why,  husband,  they  don't  do  so  in  country  places ; 
they  live  at  a  distance  from  each  other,  and  nobody  med 
dles  with  other  people's  affairs." 

"  How  little  you  know  of  the  country,  wife  !  You  can 
do  nothing  there  but  it  is  made  the  subject  of  conversa 
tion.  So  trifling  are  the  matters,  too,  about  which  people 
vex  themselves,  that  a  worthy  clergyman  told  me  that  in 
his  parish  the  frequency  with  which  he  changed  his 
linen  made  quite  a  topic  in  the  sewing-circle ;  and  then 
you  can  never  wear  a  new  dress,  or  buy  a  hood,  or  a 
cow,  but  everybody  is  interested  to  know  all  the  particu 
lars." 

"You astonish  me;  then  I'll  never  go  into  the  country 


224  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

to  live.  How  singular  it  is  that  people  have  such  a  dis 
position  to  be  inquisitive  in  matters  which  so  little  con 
cern  them !  " 

Mr.  Gill  made  his  newspaper  rattle,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Billy,"  said  Mrs.  Gill  to  her  eldest  boy,  who  sat 
studying  at  her  work-table,  ' '  what  was  that  Freddy 
Crawford  told  you  about  his  mother  changing  her  help  ?  " 

"Why,"  replied  the  boy,  "he  said  that  his  mother 
told  his  father,  yesterday  morning,  that  she  would  change 
her  domestic  as  often  as  she  pleased,  till  she  got  a  good 
one ;  and  I  believe,  but  I  won't  be  positive,  he  said  they 
had  turned  off  ten  cooks  in  three  months." 

"There,  Mr.  Gill,  don't  you  think  I  'm  patient  with 
our  old  crone,  who  don't  know  when  it  is  time  to  put  on 
the  potatoes  to  boil,  only  as  I  tell  her  1  I  wonder  what 
people  would  say  if  I  acted  as  other  women  do  7  Here 
I  've  wintered  and  summered  our  old  Nancy,  and  done 
half  the  work  myself  rather  than  change,  because  people 
will  talk  so." 

"Willy,  dear,  did  you  say  Mr.  Andrews  is  about 
moving  into  an  elegant  house  ?  " 

"Yes,  mother,  I  went  into  it  to-day;  they  are  just 
furnishing  it.  There  are  great  mirrors,  reaching  from 
the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  and  the  room  is  all  being  hung  in 
pictures,  and  one  side  of  the  library  is  all  glass  doors  for 
books  to  be  inserted,  and  it  is  very  beautiful,  mother,  all 
over.  Don't  you  wish  we  lived  in  such  a  house,  mother  ?  " 

"Ask  your  father,  child,  if  he  wishes  so."  The  boy 
obeyed. 

"  Yes,  my  son,  I  should  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  well- 
selected  library ;  and  to  regale  myself  with  looking  at 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  225 

choice  pictures  would  be  a  great  feast ;  but,  if  I  could  not 
do  it  consistently  with  my  means,  people  would  talk,  as 
your  mother  says." 

"  And  who  would  care  for  what  they  said?"  inter 
rupted  Mrs.  Gill.  "  If  I  could  only  live  in  such  a  house, 
little  should  I  heed  what  people  would  say  of  me." 

"  What !  not  you,  surely,  who  make  it  such  a  daily 
study  to  do  things  to  avoid  observation.  I  really  should 
have  hesitated,  even  if  my  circumstances  admitted,  to 
have  procured  an  elegant  house,  lest  it  should  bring  dis 
comfort  on  you,  wife." 

"  Never  mind  that,  Mr.  Gill.  I  tell  you,  when  I  feel 
I  am  doing  right,  I  don't  care  what  people  say  of  me ; 
but  when  I  have  misgivings,  I  am  forever  upbraided  that 
everybody  will  talk  about  me.  My  conscience,  Mr.  Gill, 
is  precisely  like  every  other  woman's.  If  their  husbands 
or  fathers  can  afford  them  all  the  luxuries  they  desire, 
not  a  straw  do  they  care  what  is  said  about  them ;  but 
let  them  feel  they  are  not  warranted  in  their  indulgences, 
and,  at  no  distant  day,  see  want  and  failure  staring  them 
in  the  face,  and  then  self-reproach  added  to  these  make 
.unhappiness  enough." 

"  But,  wife,  are  you  not  a  little  prone  to  talk  of  others 
yourself?" 

"That's  always  the  way;  criminating  me,  Mr.  Gill. 
No,  /  never  meddle  nor  interfere  with  anybody's  busi 
ness." 

"  William,  go  to  bed,"  said  the  father. 


MRS.    BUTTERS'    BABY. 

MRS.  BUTTERS'  baby  !  There  never  was  such  a  first 
born  child.  It  had  little  diamond  eyes,  a  complexion  of 
snowy  whiteness,  and  its  hair,  why,  it  was  so  flaxy,  soft 
and  curly,  that  everybody  begged  a  curl  to  remember  it 
by.  And  then  it  was  the  pet  of  the  house ;  all  the  treat 
its  grandmother  wanted  was  to  spend  a  day  with  her 
daughter,  and  rock  the  cradle  where  the  baby  lay,  and 
talk  about  its  "knowing"  propensities;  for  it  did  seem 
as  if  the  child  actually  crowed  before  it  was  a  week  old. 
But,  dear  me,  the  baby  was  a  boy  !  This  was  a  sad  dis 
appointment,  for  its  aunts  Jerusha,  and  Patty,  and  Phila, 
all  had  prepared  something  as  a  namesake  present,  should 
it  be  of  the  gentler  sex,  and  called  after  themselves. 
But  it  was  so  lovable,  although  a  boy,  that  it  was  the 
complete  idol  of  the  house.  Mrs.  Butters  was  a  fashion 
able  woman,  and,  after  the  birth  of  the  child,  found  her 
self  largely  indebted  to  many  of  her  acquaintances  in  the 
business  of  making  calls.  Judy,  the  maid  of  all  work, 
was  delighted  with  the  baby,  and  if  of  a  Monday  morning 
Mrs.  Butters  summoned  her  from  the  wash-tub  to  tend 
the  little  fellow  while  she  went  out  to  discharge  some  of 
her  debts,  Judy  always  smilingly  observed,  "the  clothes 
only  wash  the  aisier  for  soaking."  Sometimes,  it  is 


SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS.  227 

true,  her  mistress  would  not  return  in  season  for  her  to 
do  any  justice  in  getting  a  dinner;  but  then  Mrs.  Butters 
never  fretted  if  the  baby  was  well  attended. 

Week  after  week, —  nay,  more,  month  after  month, — 
this  little  idol  seemed  to  steal  away  the  affections  of  this 
household.  It  jumped  and  screamed,  looked  delightedly 
out  of  the  window,  and  its  fond  mother  confidently  af 
firmed  it  knew  its  father  before  it  was  three  months  old. 
' '  There  never  was  such  a  baby  ! ' '  But  remember,  that 
babies  indulged,  like  men  and  women  of  older  growth, 
have  changeful  freaks,  and  evince  strange  propensities 
and  strong  dislikes.  The  day  of  its  "  christening "  it 
was  terribly  out  of  sorts ;  it  shrieked  so  loudly  and  grew 
so  restive  in  the  nurse's  arms,  that  Mrs.  Butters  always 
declared  a  pin  must  have  pricked  it  somewhere ;  so  it 
only  gained  sympathy  for  this  ebullition  of  temper.  But 
I  am  a  little  in  anticipation  in  thus  arriving  at  the 
"christening." 

It  was  the  first  grandchild  on  both  the  paternal  and 
maternal  side ;  and  both  grandparents  were  desirous  of 
its  bearing  their  cognomen.  But,  alas  !  it  made  no 
euphonious  sound  when  the  two  names  were  coupled  to 
gether.  Timothy  Home  was  the  grandparent  by  the 
mother's  side,  and  Jeremiah  Butters  by  the  father's. 
When  it  was  proposed  they  should  be  united,  it  was  with 
a  shudder  its  dear  aunts  exclaimed,  "  Timothy  Jeremiah. 
Tim  Jerry  would  surely  be  the  nickname  of  that  sweet 
baby."  There  was  a  family  feeling  of  no  very  enviable 
.stamp  likely  to  be  produced  by  this  little  affair  of  a  name 
for  the  baby.  Its  mother  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  her 
darling  being  forever  nicknamed  t:  Jerry  Butters.''' 


228  SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS. 

Timothy  was  far  preferable.  Its  father  thought  just  the 
contrary ;  and  were  it  not  that  a  stop  was  put  to  the  dis 
puted  question,  a  serious  quarrel  might  have  ensued. 

Old  Uncle  Jerry  Butters  deposited  a  thousand  dollars 
in  a  city  bank,  the  principal  and  interest  of  which  were 
to  remain  till  the  baby  should  arrive  at  the  age  of  four 
teen,  and  then  the  proceeds  were  to  be  expended  in  its 
education,  provided  it  were  named  after  himself.  Grand 
pa  Tim  had  not  money  so  plenty,  and  of  course  he  of  the 
larger  means,  in  small  as  in  great  matters,  carries  the 
question.  The  only  disagreeable  thing  in  the  affair  was 
that  not  one  of  the' Homes  was  present  at  the  baptizing. 

Little  "  Jerry  Butters  "  soon  began  to  know  his  name, 
and  quite  soon  began  likewise  to  show  his  disposition.  He 
was  too  old  to  be  always  excused  by  his  mother  with  the 
plea  that  a  pin  sticking  into  his  "dear  little  self"  made 
him  cry.  His  grandmother  Home  gave  the  true  version 
of  the  affair  when  she  said  it  was  a  spice  of  old  Adam — the 
child  was  depraved ;  for  she  was  a  sound  orthodox  pro 
fessor,  that  never  forgot 

"  In  Adam's  fall 
We  sinned  all." 

But  it  was  the  first  baby,  and  it  must  be  indulged. 
It  was  a  proud  day  for  its  parents  when  it  puckered  up 
its  little  mouth  and  articulated  "I  won't."  It  always 
had  a  lump  of  sugar  for  every  repetition  of  those  two 
syllables.  But  by  and  by  it  did  not  sound  so  pretty. 
"When  it  tipped  over  its  full  cup  of  milk  on  purpose,  and 
threw  its  silver  tumbler  against  the  large  looking-glass  in 
the  front  parlor  and  shivered  it  to  pieces,  its  father  began 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  229 

to  feel  there  was  some  temper  that  ought  to  be  corrected. 
Poor  Judy,  too,  had  long  since  declared  she  could  do 
nothing  with  the  child  in  its  mother's  absence ;  so  a  new 
girl  on  purpose  to  take  care  of  it  was  provided.  Mrs. 
Butters'  health  made  it  very  necessary  she  should  be 
much  in  the  open  air, —  at  least  she  often  quoted,  "  her 
physician  told  her  so." 

But  fresh  troubles  began  to  thicken,  and  this  dear  lit 
tle  baby,  this  pet  and  idol,  was  at  the  foundation  of 
them.  That  he  was  the  most  self-willed  little  urchin, 
and  a  perfect  torment,  was  the  frequent  affirmation  of 
the  attendant ;  and,  after  sundry  kicks  and  scratches,  she 
declared  unless  she  were  permitted  to  correct  the  darling 
she  must  leave  her  situation.  This  Mrs.  Butters  would 
not  permit,  affirming  that  all  correction  should  be  given  by 
parents.  It  turned  out  that  she  was  soon  left  in  sole  charge 
of  her  baby,  to  do  as  she  pleased  with  him.  It  was  a 
new  and  troublesome  office.  It  was  proposed  at  length 
to  relieve  her  by  giving  her  young  gentleman  a  week's 
visit  at  Grandpa  Butters'.  The  trial  was  made,  but  two 
days  before  its  expiration,  the  "little  treasure"  was  re 
turned  as  too  unmanageable  for  its  aunts  and  cousins ! 

Its  mother  was  in  a  sad  dilemma.  To  keep  peace 
every  plan  must  be  devised  to  amuse  Master  Butters. 
Neither  cook,  chambermaid  nor  nursery-woman,  would 
stay,  for  the  little  rebel  would  contrive  to  make  each  one 
unhappy. 

Mrs.  Butters  was  completely  worn  out.     In  a  fit  of 

despair  she  protested  to  her  husband  she  must  adopt 

some  new  mode  of  living,  and  the  only  expedient  seemed 

to  be  to  break  up  housekeeping.     Certainly  this  was 

20 


230  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

likely  to  be  an  easy  matter,  for  everything  was  in  a  fair 
way  soon  to  be  broken  by  this  incorrigible,  uncorrected 
child.  Mr.  Butters  sighed  at  the  proposal.  He  felt 
this  would  be  no  antidote.  But  a  woman  must  generally 
have  her  way,  and  Mrs.  B.  was  not  long  in  determining 
to  select  a  place  for  a  new  home.  She  called  at  many 
of  the  first-class  houses  to  ascertain  the  terms ;  but,  alas  ! 
they  did  not  take  children.  This  strengthened  her  be 
lief  that  all  children  were  alike  troublesome,  and  Jerry 
was  no  worse  than  others.  The  result  of  two  days'  per 
ambulations  ended  in  this, —  at  the  west  end  of  the  city, 
in  a  genteel  boarding-house,  a  family  consisting  of  a  man. 
his  wife  and  child,  had  just  vacated  the  premises  she 
sought,  and  if  the  boy  were  not  "over  troublesome,"  the 
landlady  thought  they  might  be  received.  Mrs.  Butters 
assured  her  he  was  not,  and  it  was  arranged,  if  it  met  her 
husband's  approbation,  that  the  place  was  secured.  Be 
sides,  Mrs.  Butters  knew  of  a  friend  who  would  hire 
their  house,  furniture  and  all,  and  she  would  be  saved  a 
world  of  trouble  by  stepping  into  ready-furnished  apart 
ments,  which  she  might  do  if  she  seized  those  already 
offered. 

We  will  now  introduce  our  friends  to  their  new  board 
ing-house.  Master  Jerry  was  a  most  refractory  fellow, 
and  did  not  at  all  appear  to  like  his  new  home.  The 
first  day  his  fond  parents  dressed  him  in  the  most  splen 
did  manner,  and  brought  him  to  the  table,  which  circum 
stance  so  inflamed  the  landlady  that  they  were  glad  soon 
to  conduct  him  back  to  their  own  apartment.  "No 
children  are  allowed  at  my  table,  Mrs.  Butters,"  was 


'  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  231 

once  said,  so  that  its  significant  meaning  was  never  for 
gotten. 

At  evening,  Master  Jerry  took  a  freak  in  his  head 
that  he  was  not  at  home,  and  should  not  go  to  bed.  His 
cries  were  loud  and  continued,  and  no  entreaty,  play 
thing,  or  earthly  device,  made  the  least  impression  to  sub 
due  his  feelings.  The  strange  sound  in  this  hitherto 
quiet  house  made,  sad  notes  of  discord,  and  nearly  every 
boarder  called  to  ascertain  what  could  be  the  mat 
ter.  Old  Mrs.  Bellamy  declared  it  disturbed  her  so 
that  she  got  no  quiet  sleep  all  night ;  and  she  intimated 
to  the  landlady  that  she  should  be  forced  to  seek  a  place 
where  there  was  less  uproar,  unless  it  ceased. 

"I  protest,"  said  little  Miss  Chapman,  "  I  could  not 
hear  myself  play  upon  my  piano  last  evening,  and  it  was 
so  annoying  to  the  gentlemen  who  called  on  me" — and, 
taking  her  quizzing-glass  and  examining  every  one  at  the 
table,  she  felt  at  liberty  to  observe,  "  I  do  hope,  my  dear 
madam,  you  will  free  us  from  such  an  annoyance." 
Poor  Mr.  Butters  was  overlooked  by  her  shrouded  eyes, 
and  his  chagrin  at  this  speech  really  prevented  him  from 
finishing  his  breakfast.  He  rose  from  the  table,  and, 
after  he  left,  a  general  smile  ensued  at  Miss  Chapman's 
mistake. 

There  was  still  another  difficulty.  The  help  in  this 
house  were  all  colored,  and  Master  Jerry  was  continually 
shrieking  with  fright  as  any  specimen  of  ebony  ap 
proached  him.  His  mother  declared  he  would  have  fits, 
and  so  it  was  decided  he  must  be  kept  alone  in  his  own 
room.  Confinement  was  not  his  element,  and  his  grand 
parents  declared  it  must  not  be  —  some  other  plan  must 


232  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

be  devised.  Just  as  the  landlady  was  about  issuing  her 
orders,  Mrs.  Butters  informed  her  of  their  determination 
to  leave.  Grandpa  had  consented  to  make  one  more 
trial  with  his  namesake.  A  married  daughter  should 
never  stay  too  long  with  an  ungoverned  child  under  a 
father's  roof,  however  urged  to  do  so.  Those  maiden 
sisters,  or  that  stray  cousin,  or  that  old  domestic,  will 
kindle  a  breeze  when  the  weather  seems  most  calm. 

Scarcely  had  Mrs.  Butters  got  settled  at  her  father's, 
before  Master  Jerry  began  to  train.  "Let  the  little 
dear  have  this,"  or  "  He  is  not  well  to-day,  and  more  re 
fractory  than  usual,"  had  ceased  to  appease  the  disturbed 
household :  they  began  to  see  that  some  sort  of  discipline 
must  be  commenced.  Here  was  a  little  fellow,  just  able 
to  trot  about,  once  the  darling  and  idol  of  his  friends, 
now  their  source  of  constant  disquiet  and  unhappiness  ! 
In  that  little  breast  an  ungoverned  temper  had  made  dis 
cord  to  a  large  family  of  peaceful  inmates.  Truly  to 
such  did  a  wise  man  say,  "  Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the 
child."  After  a  faithful  trial  of  patient  endurance,  Mrs. 
Butters  found  that  a  home  of  her  own  was  the  proper  de 
posit  for  her  child ;  that  wholesome  correction  was  abso 
lutely  necessary  when  the  first  display  of  temper  appears, 
and  that  neither  boarding-house  nor  grand-parents  will 
continue  long  to  bear  a  chastisement  from  which  there  is 
an  escape. 

Master  Butters  is  still  unmanageable.  His  parents 
think  his  irritability  arises  from  delicate  nerves,  and  his 
fond  mother  has  actually  applied  to  the  homoeopathic 
physician  for  some  quieting  powders.  "Uncle  Jerry" 
says  the  "essence  of  birch"  is  the  only  effectual  remedy. 


LIFE. 

THE  mind,  the  mind,  it  gives  the  hue 

To  each  material  thing  ; 
The  vision,  if  obscured,  is  sure 

A  sombre  light  to  fling. 

A  cup  of  care  !  how  wearisome 

The  duties  of  a  day  ; 
How  labors  sadden  as  they  press 

Upon  our  cheerless  way  ! 

The  cup  of  joy !  how  oft  we  seek, 

And  yet  as  often  miss  ; 
How  phantom-like  it  flits  us  by, 

With  naught  of  real  bliss  ! 

The  cup  of  grief !  how  often  here 

Tie  after  tie  is  broke  ; 
While  weak  and  impotent  we  fall 

Beneath  the  sundering  stroke  ! 

The  cup  of  faith  !  that  blessed  cup 
Whose  waters  healing  give  ; 

How  sparingly  we  sip  that  stream 
Where  we  may  drink  and  live  ! 

The  cup  our  Master  took  ;  could  we 
Unfalt'ring  drink  like  Him, 

Sorrows  of  earth !  ye  all  would  flee, 
Nor  clouds  our  pathway  dim. 
20* 


A  DARK  PHASE   IN   LIFE. 

IT  is  a  wretched  condition  to  be  poor !  Besides  the 
•wants  and  deprivations  of  daily  life,  there  is  the  reserved 
bow  or  mere  nod,  the  apology  for  being  "  near-sighted  " 
when  you  are  in  company  with  a  rich  man,  the  con 
tempt  of  countenance  which  says,  "  You  have  not  done 
as  well  as  you  might,"  and  the  "  I  'm  glad  to  get  rid  of 
you,"  which  a  sensitive  person  always  feels  most  .keenly, 
because  poor. 

I  wonder  so  many  steeped  in  vice  and  poverty  have 
any  moral  courage  left  to  seek  a  better  fortune,  rather 
than  that  so  few  do  so.  Few  people  take  into  account 
the  hard  rubs  it  costs  them  to  rise.  Suppose  it  is  a  man 
who  has  resolved  to  be  somebody.  He  applies  for  assist 
ance,  and  tells  the  humiliating  story  of  his  degradation ; 
and  that  is  no  small  cross  when  one  is  repentant  to  begin 
with.  His  friend  shakes  his  head,  and  says,  "  I  don't 
know  of  anything  I  can  do  just  now ;  I  commend  your 
good  efforts,  hope  you  will  be  successful,  and  when  I  hear 
of  a  chance  will  let  you  know." 

Back  he  goes  to  his  counting-room,  and  never  thinks 
of  the  fellow,  till  a  hardy  truckman  stands  before  him, 
waiting  for  his  change,  who,  years  after,  tells  him  he  is 
the  same  person  who  applied  to  him  years  ago  for  help 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  235 

to  become  a  man  !  Then  there  is  a  class  who  never 
believe  you  are  really  in  earnest  to  reform ;  and  others 
who  wonder  how  you  ever  became  so  poor ;  and  yet  others 
tell  how  many  thoughtless  vagabonds  they  have  helped 
into  employment.  When  a  man  has  a  feeling  to  rise, 
they  depress  him,  instead  of  lifting  him ;  and  many  a 
time  this  has  sunk  him  in  despair. 

There  is  the  poor  woman  asking  for  work ;  she  says 
she  is  a  stranger,  and  has  a  sick  child  or  husband,  but 
can  do  any  kind  of  sewing. 

She  is  sent  to  the  slop-shop,  and  there  she  is  examined, 
before  she  takes  a  sack  worth  fifty  cents,  as  if  she  were 
about  carrying  Californian  dollars  away.  She  receives 
at  the  most  a  shilling  a  day  for  her  work ;  her  charge 
grows  sicker,  her  courage  less,  and  she  sinks  in  utter 
hopelessness. 

Thousands  die  for  want  of  one  cheering  word,  —  one 
helping  hand.  We  have  all  our  charity  so  systematized 
that  its  very  essence  seems  drawn  out.  We  are  so  afraid 
of  "imposition"  that  we  would  impose  a  fine  upon  a 
spontaneous  freak  of  nature  that  would  unburden  some 
loose  change  from  our  pockets  !  We  are  so  discriminate 
that  we  have  apologies  for  all  our  miserly  affections. 
This  makes  it  a  very  hard  world  for  a  poor  person  to  live 
in  !  If  he  is  virtuous,  he  must  bring  such  credentials  as 
are  "satisfactory."  His  honest  countenance  goes  for 
nothing,  because  we  have  been  so  often  "duped,"  and 
often  one  would  rather  starve  than  beg,  because  of  the 
very  manliness  it  takes  out  of  him. 

Then  a  poor  man  stands  a  poor  chance  in  countless 
ways.  He  may  have  the  talents  of  a  Cicero,  and  the 


236  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

perseverance  of  a  Demosthenes ;  but  he  is  objected  to  by 
the  rich  man  as  a  son-in-law  because  he  is  poor  !  With 
great  caution  he  obtains  any  business ;  for  people  are 
afraid  to  put  their  effects  where  a  man  has  nothing  but 
his  talents  !  His  tailor  is  afraid  to  trust  him ;  his  boot 
maker  points  to  his  printed  paper,  "  Terms  Cash,"  just  as 
he  selects  a  fit;  his  landlord  sends  in  a  bill  once  a  fort 
night,  — the  man  waits  to  take  the  amount  back.  Indeed, 
it  is  very  difficult  for  a  poor  man  to  live  any  how,  and 
it  always  has  been  so.  Rich  men  by  their  very  credit 
accumulate,  letting  their  money  lie  at  interest  where  the 
poor  fellow  has  to  pay  his  last  cent.  And  all  this  is 
done  for  years  before  "  better  days "  begin  to  dawn,  and 
people  look  on,  and  wonder  such  and  such  people  have 
no  more  energy.  The  truth  is,  they  have  expended 
energy  enough  to  make  up  a  dozen  characters  of  great 
ness,  just  to  live. 

We  are  not  half  willing  to  give  people  a  start.  We 
ought  to  encourage  struggling  genius  and  self-sacrificing 
laborers.  To  make  a  man  honest,  show  him  that  you 
believe  him  so;  if  "Sylvia"  will  marry  him,  bolster 
him  up ;  give  him  a  few  hundreds,  if  you  have  your 
thousands ;  cultivate  the  manly  part,  and  you  will  rarely 
find  a  knave  ! 

It  is  singular  how  little  props  sustain  one.  A  trust 
committed,  business  bestowed,  a  customer  sent,  a  patron 
izing  "  club,"  or  a  little  cash  remitted,  will  make  a  cheer 
ful  face  for  days  after. 

Much  poverty  might  be  unfelt  if  the  tender  mercies 
of  the  world  were  less  cruel. 


A  FACETIOUS   SKETCH. 

IN  the  progress  of  the  age  it  is  an  incontrovertible 
fact  that  working  for  a  living  is  decidedly  (;  vulgar." 
The  disadvantages  attending  employment  are  sufficiently 
obvious  without  any  argument.  Just  think  of  a  man 
always  busy  !  No  time  for  pains  and  aches,  no  inclina 
tion  to  be  nervous,  no  disposition  to  look  after  "invigor 
ating  medicine,"  but  brain,  hands  and  heart  all  occupied! 
Why,  such  an  individual  is  a  perfect  enemy  to  a  doctor ; 
he  is  rarely  sick,  and  so  neither  homoeopathist  nor  al- 
lopathist  can  claim  him  as  a  patient.  And,  then,  what  a 
foe  to  nurses  is  such  an  one  !  Never  needing  some  old 
lady  to  watch  by  his  bedside  and  drop  out  medicine,  — 
never  wanting  a  less  substantial  dish  than  a  sirloin  of 
beef  or  a  haunch  of  venison,  and  never  oppressed  or 
depressed  after  a  hearty  meal ! 

And  then  the  worker  has  no  time  to  attend  to  other 
people's  affairs.  He  never  inquires  into  the  scandal  so 
fresh  and  racy,  —  never  cares  whether  his  neighbor's 
daughters'  beaux  are  aristocrats  or  plebeians,  —  never 
knows  what  he  carries  home  in  his  market-basket,  nor 
whether  he  is  living  beyond  his  means ! 

He  has  no  time  to  loiter  about  a  court-house,  and  is 
never  taken  under  an  arrest,  —  never  peered  through 


238  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

any  grating  to  look  at  a  "  fugitive  slave,"  —  never 
attended  a  call  to  consider  the  constitutionality  of  certain 
proceedings,  and  never  hazards  a  farthing  on  a  bet  who 
will  finally  sit  in  the  congressional  hall ! 

There  can  be  no  mistake  but  the  working-man  foregoes 
uncommon  pleasures.  Never  to  be  able  to  stand  against 
a  post,  nor  to  sit  upon  a  seat  on  the  Common.  Never  to 
be  seen  with  a  gold-headed  walking-stick,  and  backing  up 
a  lady.  Never  to  be  caught  napping  after  dinner,  nor  yet 
lounging  in  the  rocking-chair,  nor  behind  the  folds  of  a 
damask  curtain,  with  the  last  new  novel.  Why,  is  it 
not  plain  enough  he  sacrifices  a  great  deal  ?  And  all  for 
what  1  Why,  to  be  an  independent  fellow,  —  to  feel 
that  he  has  plenty  of  money  in  the  locker,  and  is  in  a 
fair  way  to  gain  a  great  deal  more.  And  do  you  not  see 
how  the  beautiful  law  of  dependence  is  thus  frustrated  ? 
Never  obliged  to  ask  the  favor  of  a  friend  to  lend  him 
a  small  sum  to  meet  contingencies,  —  never  unable  to 
meet  an  account  for  want  of  funds,  and,  consequently, 
under  no  necessity  of  uttering  a  lie,  asserting  he  was 
disappointed  in  not  receiving  a  remittance  from  abroad. 
And,  as  he  is  not  forced  to  sin,  of  course  the  necessity 
of  penitence  is  done  away  ! 

And,  then,  the  man  who  "works"  has  such  coarse, 
clumsy  hands,  if  it  be  a  handicraft  he  follows ;  or,  his 
fingers  are  so  contracted  by  writing  as  to  be  perfectly 
shapeless  in  the  white  kid  glove ;  besides,  he  cannot 
aspire  to  be  beau,  general  or  particular,  to  those  young 
ladies  whose  dresses  drag  in  the  streets,  nor  yet  to  those 
who  ogle  young  gentlemen  behind  the  counters  in  dry 
goods  establishments.  Not  he!  Think  you  one  who 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SII/DOWS.  239 

"  works  for  a  living  "  is  fit  to  attend  a  fashionable  lady 
to  an  operaw  ?  Why,  the  very  name  of  labor  is  odi 
ous.  "  If  my  father  did  work  at  shoe-making,"  says 
Miss  Angelica,  ' '  it  was  long  before  I  was  born ;  and  I  do 
wish  he  would  get  over  the  silly  habit  of  speaking  about 
what  he  did  when  a  boy,  while  Mr.  Huckins  is  present. 
Ma  was  always  a  lady,  so  I  have  nothing  to  fear  on  her 
account." 

And  then  comes  the  strange  anomaly,  a  working- 
woman  !  One  who  is  not  ashamed  to  tell  a  daily  street 
walker  that  she  has  some  domestic  affairs  which  call  for 
attention ;  who  does  not  know,  certainly  as  early  as  the 
month  of  March,  what  will  be  the  prevailing  spring 
fashions ;  who  cannot  tell  whether  she  shall  wear  a  visite 
or  a  mantilla  this  year  !  Why,  such  a  woman  is  de 
servedly  scouted  out  of  all  "genteel  society."  And, 
then,  what  exquisite  thinks  much  of  her  daughters ; 
good,  plain,  common-sensed  girls,  who  know  how  to 
sweep,  and  mend  hosiery,  and  make  puddings,  and  direct 
Dinah  when  their  mother  is  gone,  but  who  never  per 
formed  an  "  Etalian  air,  *rith  all  its  trills,"  in  their 
whole  lives  ?  They  never  could  lisp  out  sentimental 
talk,  —  never  were  "nervously  ill"  from  living  in  a 
heated  house,  and  never  had  the  "  blues  "  for  want  of 
exercise  !  Who  could  value  such  acquaintances  1 


HAPPINESS   EQUALIZED. 

IT  is  mighty  discouraging  —  this  drudging  toil  we  are 
compelled  to  do  to  save  us  from  starvation.  Earning 
one's  "bread  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow,"  is  no  foolish 
task  ;  it 's  very  homespun  work,  talk  as  we  will  about  it. 
There  's  a  set  of  poor  fellows  digging,  digging,  digging 
all  day,  just  to  earn  a  dollar.  There  's  a  poor  woman 
stitching  and  sewing,  and  pressing,  and  button-holing, 
to  earn  her  fifty  or  seventy-five  cents ;  and  at  night,  in 
the  first  case,  the  man  with  the  clean,  sleek,  plaited- 
bosomed  shirt  walks  up  and  says,  "Mike,  here's  your 
money;"  and  the  mistress,  with  flounces  all  the  way  up 
her  skirt,  holds  out  the  pittance  and  says,  "  Here.  Mrs. 
Saveall,  is  your  money  for  your  day's  work ;  "  and  then 
the  laborers  go  home  to  stow  away  in  an  ugly,  ill- venti 
lated,  old,  crazy  apartment,  filled  with  children,  and,  it 
may  be,  a  sick  or  scolding  wife,  who  moans  over  her  sad 
fate,  and  says  she  never  expected  to  come  to  this — "  cold 
potatoes  and  dry  bread;  no  nursing,  and  little  to  live  for." 

Now,  such  a  picture  makes  one  side  of  human  life ;  but 
it  is  only  the  shady  one.  We  all  have  discouraging 
days  —  dark  days  —  cloudy  ones.  By-and-by  the  sun 
shines.  That  man  who  earns  his  dollar  goes  home  and 
tells  his  wife  he  has  taken  a  job  for  higher  pay ;  tosses 


SUBSTANCE    AND   SHADOWS.  241 

up  the  baby,  and  tells  its  mother  about  the  quantity  of 
groceries  he  is  going  to  buy,  and  that  she  can  have  a  new 
bonnet,  and  "  little  Mike"  a  new  pair  of  shoes,  and  that 
they  shall  all  fit  out  and  go  upon  some  visiting  expedition 
awhile  hence,  to  see  some  distant  aunt,  or  cousin,  or 
"  very  dear  friend."  And  then,  how  she  sings  over  her 
work  !  How  little  she  minds  about  the  baby's  fretting, 
or  Luther's  mischievous  ways  !  Her  heart  is  all  turned 
to  that  outfit,  and  the  pleasant  idea  keeps  running 
through  her  mind  that  if  she  is  not  as  well  off  as  some 
body  else,  she,  to  say  the  least,  is  happier.  She  heard 
the  man  with  a  ruffled  shirt  say,  in  the  morning  when  she 
took  his  clothes  home,  that  his  money  did  not  bring  him 
in  any  dividends  ;  that  he  had  notes  to  pay,  and  did  not 
know  how  to  meet  them ;  and  then  he  added,  "  You 
people  who  work  for  your  daily  bread  are  the  happiest  in 
the  world."  And  she  adds,  "  I  know  it  is  so ;  for  Mr.  Fry 
looked  dejected  and  careworn.  His  face  was  sallow,  and 
his  eyes  looked  as  if  he  had  watched  all  night ;  while  I 
feel  as  gay  as  a  lark,  and  would  not  change  situations 
with  Mr.  Fry,  the  merchant,  to-day,  if  I  could." 

And  there  is  the  seamstress,  and  her  employer  in  her 
flounced  dress.  "  Madam,"  to  be  sure,  sits  on  an  elegant 
couch,  and  her  eyes  rest  on  tapestry  carpets,  and  beneath 
folds  of  damask  the  light  stealthily  peeps  in,  all  soft 
ened  ;  but,  ten  chances  to  one,  her  husband  was  out  all 
night  at  some  gaming-table  ;  or  he  is  a  veritable  Caudle, 
who  gave  her  a  curtain  lecture  about  her  extravagance  ; 
or  some  son  has  vexed  her  life  out  about  going  to  Cali 
fornia  ;  and  the  seamstress,  who  is  plying  her  needle  away 
in  the  back  nursery,  has  a  thousand  times  as  pleasant 
21 


242  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

thoughts  coursing  through  her  brain.  She,  perhaps,  has 
a  prospect  of  marriage,  and  the  work  is  cheerfully  per 
formed,  because  she  has  her  eye  on  some  piece  of  furni 
ture  she  means  to  purchase ;  and  then,  too,  she  has  an 
idea  how  happy  she  shall  be  when  she  inhabits  "  a  home 
of  her  own,"  and  John  goes  to  his  work,  and  she  sits  and 
works  for  him.  Would  she  change  places  with  her  em 
ployer,  think  you  1 

Thus  it  is,  we  are  very  apt  to  take  things  on  the 
surface,  and  then  come  to  a  conclusion.  We  envy  peo 
ple  in  coaches  when  we  are  tired  with  walking ;  we 
desire  more  spacious  dwellings  when  we  are  pinched  for 
closet-room ;  we  covet  gold  chains,  and  silk  dresses,  and 
outside  finery,  forgetting  that  away  down  in  human 
hearts  there  are  aches,  and  pains,  and  vexations,  and  petty 
trials,  which  corrode  the  peace  and  quiet  of  luxurious 
people,  varying  in  kind,  but  not  in  degree,  with  the  more 
humble,  toiling,  plodding,  every-day  sort  of  people. 

The  man  who  rides  in  the  coach  often  has  a  gouty 
leg ;  and  how  he  envies  the  nimble  trip  of  the  mechanic  ! 
The  lady  in  diamonds  and  gold  chains  has  a  deep-seated 
cough,  and  she  covets  the  rosy  cheeks  and  merry  heart 
of  her  washer- woman ;  or  she  has  a  little  "  pindling," 
weird-faced  child,  who  has  been  heated  to  death  in  a 
nursery,  and  the  ruddy  countenance  of  her  cook's  little 
boy,  who  plays  out  of  doors  and  takes  care  of  himself,  is 
to  her  a  perfect  enigma.  She  would  give  all  the  world 
if  her  puny  boy  Avas  as  robust.  And  so  she  feeds  him 
on  sweetmeats,  and  buys  him  a  nice  covered  carriage, 
and  hires  a  servant-girl  to  drag  him  to  the  Common,  and 
hopes  by  these  means  he  will  recover ;  whereas,  if  she 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  243 

would  let  him  trot  about  alone,  and  pick  dandelions,  and 
fall  into  mud-puddles,  and  eat  brown  bread  and  new  milk, 
no  doubt  the  little  fellow  would  be  hale  and  hearty. 

Thus  we  see  the  law  of  compensation  is  about  equally 
divided.  One  has  more  money,  and  the  other  more  ac 
tivity;  one  has  more  luxuries,  and  the  other  more 
health ;  one  frets  over  a  thing  another  covets ;  and  so, 
taking  it  in  the  aggregate,  everything  is  about  equally 
apportioned.  And  this  should  teach  us  perfect  content- 
jnent  with  our  lot,  unless  we  are  disposed  to  be  idle ;  and 
a  sluggard  has  no  business  to  live  in  God's  universe, 
where  everything  in  nature  is  destined  to  progress. 
Therefore,  clear  away  the  wrinkles ;  stop  fretting  because 
your  neighbor  is  better  off  than  yourself;  keep  up  a 
merry  heart,  and  you  will  find  this  world  a  pretty  com 
fortable  place  after  all. 


SWEET  SIXTEEN; 

OR,    THE   FIRST   FLIRTATION. 

11  MAMMA,  have  you  any  objection  to  my  receiving  the 
attentions  of  that  young  gentleman  who  danced  with  me 
at  last  evening's  hop?"  inquired  Edith  Gray,  as  she 
looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  Ocean  House,  whither, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  .life,  she  had  arrived. 

"  Objections,  my  dear  !  I  know  nothing  about  the  per 
son  you  speak  of." 

"  Why,  ma,  don't  you  remember  Mr.  Rodolphus  McGil- 
very,  the  gentleman  with  long,  flowing  black  hair,  and  a 
bronze  face?  He  wore  those  heavy  whiskers  that  were  just 
tucked  in  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  his  hair  curled 
gracefully  over  his  upper  lip,  and  disclosed  a  set  of  the 
most  beautiful  teeth  I  ever  beheld.  There  he  is  now,  sit 
ting  on  yonder  piazza,  smoking,  with  Eugene  Fitzroy." 

' '  You  seem  wonderfully  posted,  child,  in  the  names 
of  the  gentlemen  about  here.  It  is  but  six  days  since  we 
arrived,  and  Edith,  dear,  you  must  not  make  too  free 
with  those  whose  characters  you  know  nothing  about. 
What,  then,  of  this  Mr.  Rodolphus  what  d'ye  call  him  ? " 

"  Do  call  him  Mr.  McGilvery,  mother.  He  is  a  splen 
did  young  man ;  and  now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  do  know 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  245 

about  him.  The  very  first  day  I  came  here,  just  before 
papa  went  away,  he  asked  to  be  introduced  to  me.  He 
is  of  Scottish  descent,  and  is  making  the  tour  of  the 
United  States.  Well,  in  a  very  familiar  manner  he  said 
to  me,  '  Miss  Edith '  (for  he  heard  'pa'  call  me  so),  '  J 
shall  wish  to  monopolize  your  society  while  I  am  here. 
I  am  fond  of  young  ladies.  I  had  a  sister  once  who 
strongly  resembled  you.  That  weed  on  my  hat  betokens 
her  decease.'  And  he  wiped  his  eyes  and  looked  so 
affectionately  towards  me,  ma,  I  began  to  love  him  at 
once." 

"Why,  Edith,  you  should  not  indulge  in  such  strong 
expressions.  Remember,  you  are  a  very  young  lady, 
and  know  but  little  of  the  world.  You  must  be  cautious, 
dear,  about  accepting  attentions  from  strangers.  Many  a 
young  girl  has  been  duped  by  their  duplicity." 

"  0, 1  know  all  about  that,  mother  !  "  replied  the  san 
guine  sweet  sixteen ;  "  but  they  who  deceive  foolish  girls 
are  not  of  the  stamp  of  Mr.  McGilvery.  He  is  alto 
gether  above  such  mean  conduct.  Besides,  did  n't  I  just 
explain  to  you  why  he  feels  attached  to  me  ?  —  on  ac 
count  of  my  resemblance  to  his  dear  sister." 

"  And  it  may  be  that  he  never  had  a  sister,  after  all, 
Edith.  How  do  we  know  the  fact?  " 

' '  Ma,  I  never  saw  such  a  doubting  person  as  you  are  ! 
What  earthly  motive  could  have  induced  him  to  have 
asserted  such  a  thing,  unless  it  were  true  ?  Now,  please 
tell  me,  have  you  any  objection  to  my  accepting  his 
attentions  ?  He  told  me  to  ask  you,  and  I  am  sure  this 
argues  that  he  is  not  desirous  of  inveigling  me  against 
your  will." 

21* 


246  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

"  Still,  I  should  have  thought  better  of  the  man,  had 
he  sought  my  acquaintance,  and  asked  the  question  him 
self.  You  may  tell  him  so,  as  your  reply,  Edith,  to  his 
question." 

.  "  But  he  was  too  modest,  mother,  to  venture  convers 
ing  with  you.  There  he  is,  rising  from  his  seat.  I  mil 
run  and  ask  him  to  come  to  our  room." 

"No,  Edith;  you  must  not  be  too  familiar,  I  tell 
you."  But  Edith  waved  her  little  hand  for  his  approach, 
and  he  came  into  the  hall,  and  there  stood,  waiting  for 
her  to  join  him. 

Artless  and  thoughtless,  she  ran  to  him,  and  began 
narrating  all  her  late  conversation,  and,  after  pressing 
Mr.  Rodolphus  McGilvery  to  go  and  see  her  mother,  he 
reluctantly  consented  to  do  so. 

Upon  entering  the  room,  he  was  the  picture  of  smiles 
and  the  graces  personified ;  so  bland  in  conversation,  so 
delicate  in  remarks,  so  apparently  diffident,  yet  resolute, 
that  Mi's.  Blithe  did  not  wonder  her  daughter  was  fasci 
nated. 

The  interview  was  a  long  one,  and  ended  in  a  full  dis 
closure  of  the  object  for  which  he  came  to  this  country  ; 
indirectly  keeping  in  view,  all  the  while,  that  money  was 
no  consideration  with  him,  his  father  having  just  died 
and  left  him  sole  heir  to  a  princely  fortune ;  that  he  only 
pined  for  sympathy  and  companionship ;  and,  as  Edith  so 
strongly  reminded  him  of  his  deceased  sister,  he,  per 
haps,  had  ventured  too  far  in  endeavoring  to  gain  the 
friendly  regard  of  one  young  and  innocent  heart,  in  a 
strange  land. 

These  thoughts  being  uttered  in  a  most  winning  accent, 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  247 

suited  by  inflexions  and  cadences  to  the  major  or  minor 
key,  as  best  suited  the  pathetic  or  more  lively  part  of 
his  history,  all  counted  with  Mrs.  Blithe,  and  she  ven 
tured  so  far  as  to  add,  that  '-if,  during  their  sojourn, 
they  could  do  anything  to  minister  to  his  comfort,  they 
would  most  cheerfully  perform  it."  And  Edith  was  in 
ecstasy  that  she  had  thus  won  over  her  mother  to  be 
come  interested  in  Mr.  Rodolphus  McGilvery. 

What  did  she  care  for  that  staid  young  man,  Mr.  Les 
ter,  from  New  York  ;  or  Mr.  Fry,  the  rich  bachelor,  who 
had  promised  Mr.  Blithe  to  attend  his  wife  and  daughter 
in  his  absence  1  It  was  certainly  very  ill-timed  and 
impertinent  in  the  latter  to  inquire  what  they  knew  of 
the  character  of  the  gentleman  with  whom  they  were  so 
intimately  connected,  after  he  had  told  them  so  minutely 
his  personal  history.  Truly,  Mrs.  Blithe,  you  are  as 
easily  satisfied  and  as  credulous  as  your  daughter. 

Mr.  Fry,  however,  took  it  upon  himself  to  ascertain 
authentically  whether  the  statements  made  by  Mr.  Rodol 
phus  were  strictly  true.  He  addressed  a  letter  to  a  mer 
cantile  house  in  New  York,  upon  whom  he  professed  to 
draw  for  money,  and  found  they  were  ignorant  of  the 
existence  of  such  a  man.  He  addressed  another  to  Count 
Zolvani,  whom  he  said  he  knew  intimately,  and  was 
answered  that  ' '  he  never  heard  of  the  gentleman  in 
question."  So  that,  when  convinced  of  the  falsity  of  two 
asseverations,  he  began  to  distrust  all  others,  which  sorely 
puzzled  and  vexed  Mrs.  Blithe  and  her  daughter. 

While  in  the  heyday  of  apparent  triumph,  having 
secured  the  affections  of  an  artless  girl,  having  flirted 
and  danced  in  the  sunbeams  of  fashionable  life,  suddenly 


248  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

Mr.  Roclolphus  McGilvery  disappeared,  leaving  the  land 
lord  with  his  unpaid  board-bill,  and  at  the  livery-stable 
a  large  undischarged  account  "for  sundry  drives  about 
the  suburbs,"  in  which  Mrs.  Blithe  and  Edith  had  par 
ticipated  ;  and,  worse  than  all,  leaving  a  young  and 
guileless  heart  to  feel  the  chagrin  which  always  attends 
an  unsuccessful  flirtation. 

But  the  present  mortification  wore  away  when  they 
felt  the  escape  which  the  continued  attentions  of  the 
Scotch  gentleman  would,  ere  long,  have  made  very 
doubtful ;  and  our  young  friend  now  was  convinced  that 
a  sterling  character,  generally,  can  furnish  testimonials  to 
establish  its  own  assertions.  So  the  mortifying  lesson 
proved  a  salutary  one. 

Mrs.  Blithe  and  her  daughter  now  willingly  accepted 
the  protection  of  that  estimable  gentleman  (Mr.  Fry), 
whose  inquiries  undoubtedly  gave  the  walking-ticket  to 
the  Scotch  gentleman ;  and  feeling,  as  they  did,  that  his 
professions  of  regard  were  sincere,  Edith  was  never  ques 
tioned  by  her  mother  how  far  nor  how  fast  Mr.  Fry  had 
proceeded.  Still,  after  their  return  in  the  autumn,  she 
one  day  inquired  concerning  the  age  of  Mr.  Fry. 

"Your  father  says,  Edith,  that  Mr.  Fry  cannot  be 
more  than  thirty- three." 

Edith  reckoned.  "  Twice  seventeen  is  thirty-four ;  that 
is  not  so  very  great  a  disparity,  after  all,"  said  she, 
thoughtfully. 

"  Remember,  daughter,  the  old  adage,  '  Better  be  an 
old  man's  darling  than  a  young  fool's  pet.'  ' 

"  Old  man  I  "  indignantly  replied  Edith,  "  I  'm  sure 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  249 

Mr.  Fry  is  anything  but  an  old  man.  Here  is  a  let 
ter  he  has  addressed  to  both  you  and  father." 

"  NEW  YORK, , . 

"  TO     MY    PARTICULAR     FRIENDS,     MR.     AND     MRS. 

BLITHE  :  —  A  very  delicate  subject  will  be  presented  for 
your  consideration  in  this  letter.  It  respects  your  approval 
of  an  intimate  connection  between  myself  and  your  daugh 
ter  Edith.  You  have  had  a  perfect  knowledge  of  my  char 
acter  from  boyhood.  I  know  there  is  a  disparity  in  our 
years,  but  only  enough,  I  apprehend,  to  add  the  test  of 
experience  which  neutralizes  the  folly  of  youth.  Should 
you,  therefore,  accept  my  proposal  to  wed  Miss  Edith, 
may  I  hope  the  event  will  not  long  be  delayed  ?  I  trust 
my  pecuniary  resources  are  adequate  to  common  emer 
gencies  ;  so  that  we  may  commence,  and  with  ordinary 
success  continue,  in  a  rational  mode  of  living,  in  keeping 
with  your  daughter's  former  style.  Please  answer  by 
return  of  mail.  Yours,  truly,  J.  FRY." 

' '  Who  is  the  reigning  married  belle  of  the  season,  at 
the  Ocean  House  ?  "  I  inquired,  upon  my  arrival  the 
next  season. 

"  A  Mrs.  Fry,  from  New  York,"  was  the  reply.  "  She 
is  truly  lovely,  and  her  countenance  and  manners  are 
faultless.  Besides,  she  has  a  most  fascinating  man  for  a 
husband." 

I  gazed  at  the  belle  as  she  entered  the  dining-hall.  It 
was  she  who,  one  year  ago,  hung  upon  the  arm  of  that 
disgraced  McGilvery ;  and  I  thanked  Heaven  that  so 
bright  and  beauteous  a  being  had  escaped  the  snares 
which  attended  her  first  and  last  flirtation. 


THE   MAY-DAY    FESTIVAL. 

THE  flowers  resolved  upon  holding  a  festival  on  May 
day.  They  issued  their  invitations  between  the  sunshine 
and  showers  which  fickle  April  produced.  But  it  was 
thought  expedient  to  call  a  convention,  and  decide  who 
among  all  the  gay  races  would  be  present.  No  sooner 
had  little  Miss  "  Crocus  "  received  her  invitation,  than 
she  rose  from  her  snowy  embankment,  arrayed  in  her  ves 
tal  whiteness,  and  declared  her  willingness  to  be  present, 
at  the  same  time  prefacing  her  remarks  with  the  expecta 
tion  that  her  robe  might  be  somewhat  soiled  from  its  pure 
delicacy,  by  the  frequent  contact  she  expected  to  encoun 
ter  with  the  rough  blasts  of  the  season. 

The  Misses  "Jonquil  and  Daffodil"  next  rose,  and 
signified  their  desire  to  grace  the  floral  feast.  They  were 
from  the  sunny  quarters  against  which  defences  and 
shields  protected  them  from  the  rough  usage  of  sister 
April,  at  whose  concert  they  had  for  years  annually  ap 
peared  ;  and  although  they  sometimes  quailed  at  the  in 
harmonious  utterances  with  which  she  attuned  her  wind 
instruments,  yet  they  had  always  basked  in  her  gra 
cious  smiles,  and  appeared  in  full  costume  at  her  opening 
display.  They,  with  pleasure  accepted  the  call  to  appear 
in  the  convention. 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  251 

A  lowly,  timid  maiden,  clothed  in  deep  yellow,  spoke 
despondingly,  and  doubted  whether  her  tribe,  as  a  whole, 
would  venture  into  the  gay  assemblage.  We  at  once 
recognized  the  look  of  our  familiar  friend,  the  "Dande 
lion."  She  remarked  she  had  never  been  petted  by  her 
aristocratic  neighbors  in  the  bouquet,  but  that  she  had  for 
centuries  bloomed  outside  the  garden  Avail  and  among 
common  pathways ;  and  that  although  she  was  of  humble 
origin,  and  often  passed  by  as  worthless,  yet  she  was 
highly  prized  by  her  jaundiced  patients,  and  eagerly 
sought  for  at  her  first  appearance  as  the  harbinger  of 
health  ;  and  although  she  was  seldom  present  at  evening 
parties,  yet  she  had  the  honor  of  being  conspicuous  at 
many  a  rich  man's  dinner  table!  She  could  not,  there 
fore,  feel  assured  that  she  should  appear  at  the  May-day 
festival. 

There  was  a  bright  little  wild  flower,  clothed  in  a  robe 
of  delicate  pink,  who  next  took  the  speaker's  stand.  She 
remarked  that  her  residence  was  in  an  uncongenial  cli 
mate  to  most  of  the  sisterhood,  yet  she  delighted  to  live 
in  damp  soil,  and  among  shady  retreats  ;  that  she  was  on 
perfect  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  wild  "  Honeysuckle," 
.and  they  were  neighborly  and  content,  ay,  and  far  less 
likely  to  wither,  than  when  ruthless  hands  transferred 
them  to  china  vases  in  splendid  drawing-rooms,  thus  in 
troducing  them  into  society  from  which  they  naturally 
shrank  —  often  becoming  sickly,  and  soon  dropping 
from  their  elevated  position,  preferring  the  mossy  rock 
upon  which  they  originally  grew,  to  all  the  heated  splen 
dor  which  surrounded  them.  Upon  hearing  these  words, 
Miss  "  Violet,"  clothed  in  her  delicate  blue  attire,  came 


252  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

forward  most  timidly,  and  was  received  with  much  applause. 
She  spoke  of  a  seeming  delicate  constitution,  yet,  having 
laid  imprisoned  beneath  a  snow-flake,  or  encased  in  a 
globule  of  ice,  she  had  been  permitted  for  some  weeks  to 
expand  her  roots,  and  make  an  early  appearance,  as  one 
of  the  indicators  that  Spring  had  arrived.  But  she 
was  exceedingly  flexible,  could  bear  no  rough  usage  away 
from  the  clump  to  which  she  was  attached,  and  remarked, 
unless  attended  by  a  train  of  her  companions,  she  should 
prefer  to  diffuse  her  sweetness  in  the  open  field  which 
nature  had  assigned  her  ;  she  could  not  well  bear  trans 
planting. 

A  modest  variegated  "  Daisy  "  next  blushingly  came 
forward.  She  signified  that  it  was  quite  too  early  for  her 
to  appear  on  May-day  in  the  open  air  —  that  from  her 
box  of  earth  she  had  only  looked  through  a  glass  case 
ment,  and,  as  she  had  been  so  delicately  reared,  she  feared 
an  outward  exposure ;  besides,  she  was  under  a  peremp 
tory  engagement  to  keep  her  stand  within  view  of  a  sick 
sufferer,  whose  eyes  always  turned  toward  her  with  de 
light.  Upon  this  remark,  however,  a  confused  number 
of  voices  were  heard,  all  declaring  that  they  were  equally 
prized  by  the  invalid,  whereupon  the  gardener  at  the  hot 
house  commanded  silence,  and,  throwing  over  them  a 
shower  of  moisture,  they  were  soon  seen  bathed  in  a 
flood  of  tears ! 

Miss  "Heliotrope"  made  a  short  speech,  which  was 
encored,  and  a  sentiment  was  offered  to  the  effect  that 
"  she  was  the  sweetest  of  Miss*  Spring's  daughters," 
which  threw  her  into  such  a  delirious  fragrance  that  she 
was,  more  than  ever,  the  admiration  of  all.  The 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  253 

"  Bulbs,"  next  came  out  in  their  glasses  ;  but  as  they  had 
not  much  depth,  and  were  full  of  doubts  whether  they 
should  be  disengaged,  it  was  concluded  to  dismiss  them 
at  pleasure. 

There  was  a  call  at  this  time  for  the  "  Moss  Rose  " 
and  "  Tulip,"  the  "  Cactus  "  and  "  Japonica,"  the  Dah 
lia  "  and  "  Lily,"  when  a  delicate  little  flower,  known  as 
Miss  "  Clover,"  addressed  the  meeting.  She  spoke  of 
making  an  earlier  appearance  than  was  her  annual  cus 
tom  ;  but,  being  petted  by  Miss  April  amidst  sunshine  and 
showers,  she  had  ventured  too  early  she  feared  for  a  public 
appearance.  She  observed  that  she  did  not  appear  with 
out  a  train  of  companions,  and  therefore  a  non-compliance 
with  their  invitation  might  be  expected.  There  was  a 
decided  reluctance  in  the  choicest  exotics  and  the  culti 
vated  garden  flowers,  to  grace  the  convention;  they 
were  preparing  for  a  more  public  exhibition,  in  more 
showy  quarters,  under  the  scientific  care  of  the  "  Horti 
cultural  Society." 

Yet  there  were  some  excellent  remarks  made  by  the 
early  Spring  flowers.  They  observed  that  scores  of 
maidens  and  lovers  were  continually  seeking  them.  In 
deed,  their  native  charms  were  unadorned,  and  so  they 
attracted  unfeigned  admiration.  On  the  whole,  the 
members  of  the  convention  acquitted  themselves  with 
credit,  and  concluded  to  appear  in  sufficient  numbers 
and  strength  to  grace  the  foreheads  of  the  May  Queens, 
and  to  be  borne  in  admiration  among  select  private 
groups,  who  promised  to  meet  them  at  an  early  hour 
on  May  morning,  and  transfer  them  to  the  most  eligible 

quarters. 

22 


MR.   TANGLE'S   EXPERIMENT. 

MR.  TANGLE,  above  all  things,  loved  rural  life ;  so  he 
bought  a  cottage,  and  took  up  his  residence  "in  the  sub 
urbs."  His  family  were  delighted  with  the  arrangement ; 
it  would  be  so  pleasant  to  sit  under  shady  trees  and  eat 
fruit  seasoned  with  the  richest  cream,  and  to  sleep  all 
night  with  such  refreshing  breezes  to  fan  them.  And  so 
neighbor  Tangle  left  the  bricks  and  mortar  of  the  city  to 
tread  upon  velvet  lawns.  He  purchased  the  "Major's 
place,"  where,  for  a  long  time,  there  had  been  a  placard, 
"  This  Place  for  Sale  or  to  Let,"  and  entered  upon  his 
labors  like  an  energetic  man.  He  purchased  a  hoe, 
a  spade,  and  a  rake ;  a  horse,  a  cow,  and  a  cart.  He 
hired  a  man  and  a  woman  to  make  things  go  on  agree 
ably  to  all  parties.  His  wife  could  drive  the  horse,  and 
his  children  could  all  stow  away  in  the  carryall,  and 
never  did  a  family  enjoy  more  in  prospect. 

"  Weeds  shall  never  grow  in  my  grounds,"  was  the 
motto  of  Mr.  Tangle ;  but  the  ambitious  little  runners 
had  displayed  their  roving  habits  before  he  entered  upon 
his  labors.  The  "  hired  man  "  was  employed  to  subdue 
them,  while  his  master  wrought  among  the  flower-beds. 

How  Mr.  Tangle  did  work  !  How  long  he  kept  out 
in  the  hot  sun,  feeling  like  a  delighted  husbandman  ! 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  255 

How  short  a  respite  intervened  between  his  labors  !  At 
last  came  evening  —  cool,  dewy  evening,  u  so  fragrant  and 
refreshing ;  "  but,  alas !  there  came  with  it  a  strange 
sensation,  and  Mr.  Tangle  was  not  able  to  stand  erect ! 
How  his  back  ached,  and  how  stooping  he  went  into  his 
house,  and  what  a  suffering  night  followed  !  His  limbs 
were  all  stiffened ;  there  was  a  feverish  action,  a  cramp,  a 
rheumatic  affection,  a  loss  of  appetite ;  and,  finally,  all 
the  charms  which  so  cheered  him  a  week  ago,  had  lost 
their  power  to  do  so. 

He  sent  for  his  city  physician,  who  pronounced  his 
disease  "the  result  of  over-exertion."  It  took  him  a 
week  to  recover  his  upright  position,  and,  ever  after,  the 
sight  of  "  spade  and  hoe  "  was  only  suggestive  of  pain 
and  misery.  The  weeds  grew  among  the  flowers,  and  the 
grass  became  entangled  with  the  borders,  and  there  was 
an  air  of  neglect  which  crept  over  his  half-acre  lot.  He 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  not  born  to  till  the 
soil,  and  went  back  to  his  old  counting-room,  as  soon  as 
he  had  found  and  reposted  the  old  placard,  whereon  was 
written,  "  This  Place  for  Sale  or  to  Let ;"  and  there  it 
stands,  just  where  it  was  when  it  first  met  his  eye.  Am 
ateur  farmers  will  please  observe  it. 


FASHIONABLE  BOARDING. 

"  MICHAEL,"  says  Mr.  Benjamin  Boody,  "  call  me 
to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock  precisely.  I  will 
order  my  breakfast  as  my  appetite  stands  at  the  time. 
And  here,  Mike,  take  this  note  to  Gondey,  the  fashion 
able  tailor, —  say  the  bill  must  be  rectified  before  it  is 
paid.  Here's  a  note  to  Miss  Angeline  Gray,  at  the 
West  End  —  the  daughter  of  Barrister  Gray.  You  know 
their  residence,  and,  on  the  way,  just  call  for  my  white 
kids  at  Masury's,  and  purchase  a  bottle  of  cologne,  and 
another  of  tricopherous.  Tell  them  Mr.  Boody  sends, 
and  my  name  is  already  booked  for  a  few  little  sundries, 
for  which  I  will  call  and  settle." 

The  bell  is  pulled  violently.  ' '  Margaret,  will  you 
ask  the  landlady  to  come  to  my  room  —  Mr.  Boody, 
No.  4?" 

"  What  can  that  man  want  of  me  ?  I  do  hope  it  is  to 
settle  his  bill ;  let  me  see  the  amount.  '  To  be  paid 
monthly,  as  per  agreement.'  One,  two,  three,  yes  four 
months  have  passed,  and  I  have  received  just  nine  dol 
lars  and  fifty  cents.  Georgiana,  here,  make  out  this  bill 
to  B.  Boody,  for  four  months'  board.  He  has  sent  for 
me  probably  to  pay  it.  I  '11  just  slip  on  my  cap  with 
flowers  in  it,  and,  Margaret,  reach  me  my  silk  dress. 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  257 

Boody,  I  believe,  is  —  is  an  English  gentleman  —  came 
over  in  the  steamship  —  has  a  commission  from  Queen 
Vic.  Well,  dear,  if  the  bill  is  done,  I  '11  wait  on  him." 

:******** 

"Mr.  Boody,  good  morning,  sir." 

"Good  morning,  landlady.  I  rang  for  your  servant- 
maid  to  call  her  mistress.  I  merely  wished  to  say,  that 
my  coffee  is  not  genuine  Mocha,  that  my  steak  was  not 
juicy,  besides  being  overdone,  and  that  the  rolls  were 
perfectly  stale ;  and  merely  summoned  you  to  say  that, 
unless  better  fare  is  provided,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  seek 
lodgings  elsewhere.  Your  accommodations,  madam,  are 
not  equal  to  your  terms." 

Michael  enters,  with  a  profound  bow. 

"The  gintleman  says  he  shall  keep  the  gloves  until 
old  arrearages  are  paid.  As  to  the  hair-tonic,  yer  honor, 
they  bid  me  say  they  had  booked  quite  enough,  and 
here  's  the  bill  for  the  past,  sir."  The  landlady  was 
taken  aback. 

"  Mr.  Boody,  here  is  my  bill." 

"Keep  it,  madam.  I  make  no  payments  till  my 
drafts  are  accepted." 

And  the  next  morning  the  English  gentleman  was 
missing,  and  the  poor  landlady,  who  keeps  "  boarders  for 
a  living,"  was  obliged  to  pocket  the  bill  and  the  insult. 

******:&:& 

Mrs.  Cornelius  Flary  wanted  board.  She  would  like 
Mr.  Boody 's  apartments ;  had  an  only  daughter  and  a 
waiting-maid ;  had  kept  a  carriage,  and  could  give  the 
best  of  references.  The  landlady  looked  for  a  golden 
shower  to  succeed  her  late  overcast  sky.  Miss  Aminta, 
22* 


258  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

the  daughter,  was  engaged  to  Monsieur  Ferrego,  a 
gentleman  of  genuine  moustache.  Madam  attended  "  op- 
eraws,"  occasionally  morning-parties  ;  had  select  friends 
for  games  of  whist  or  chess;  always  ate  in  her  own 
rooms ;  kept  a  little  poodle-dog  and  a  dressing-maid. 
Who  could  douht  her  respectable  standing  in  society  ? 

Monsieur  Ferrego  received  a  sudden  call  to  France. 
The  mother  and  daughter  departed  with  him,  leaving  a 
soiled  white  silk  night-cap,  an  odd  slipper,  a  dirty  room, 
and  the  unpaid  bill ! 


A  WEEK  AT  THE   FARM-HOUSE. 

A  LITTLE  robin  sat  perched  on  the  highest  bough  of 
a  tall  tree.  There  he  sang,  and  warbled  forth  for  hours 
his  sweetest  notes,  making  the  evening  air  vocal  with  his 
rich  tones.  Day  after  day  he  continued  this  practice, 
with  little  interruption,  and  only  at  nightfall  Avas  he 
missed  from  his  accustomed  seat.  Long,  long  before  the 
tired  laborers  awoke,  he  was  again  carolling  his  morning 
matins,  refreshing  the  restless,  sleepless  sufferer,  who 
had  counted  the  weary  hours  of  night.  And  what  was 
the  office  of  this  tiny  songster  ?  Was  it  to  gladden  my 
heart  that  he  made  himself  so  vocal  ?  Ay,  not  me  alone, 
for,  underneath  his  seat,  his  companion  had  built  her 
nest ;  and,  while  she  sat  at  her  weary  task,  her  loving 
mate  attempted  to  cheer  her  with  his  most  tuneful  notes. 
No  doubt  the  phraseology,  interpreted,  meant,  "  I  will 
inform  thee  of  impending  danger,  and  should  the  mighty 
eagle,  or  any  of  the  feathered  tribe,  invade  our  premises, 
I  will  give  thee  '  note  of  preparation.'  '  And  then  the 
protecting  songster  would  flit  away  a  few  paces,  and 
return  with  a  morsel  of  food,  and,  kindly  dropping  it  in 
the  nest,  remount,  and  sing  again  a  livelier  strain. 

What  a  lesson  to  a  jarring  household  did  this  robin 
teach !  How,  when  wearied  with  care,  or  worn  down 


260  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

•with  labor,  do  the  accents  of  sympathy  cheer  and  renerve 
the  spirits  !  How  does  the  feeling  that  a  protecting  hand 
is  held  out  to  support  us,  help  us  to  bear  together  what 
would  separately  crush  us  !  And  just  this  kind  of  reli 
ance  we  are  invited  to  feel  in  our  heavenly  Parent's 
care. 

The  faithful  hen.  All  day  long,  a  hawk  had  been  hov 
ering  at  short  intervals  over  a  brood  of  chickens.  Just 
as  the  parent  hen  saw  him  approaching,  she  gave  a  pierc 
ing  shriek  and  gathered  her  brood  under  her  wings.  This 
summoned  the  cock,  who  raised  his  erect  comb,  and  gave 
a  note  of  defiance.  We  looked  in  vain  for  any  abatement 
of  these  creatures'  care.  Their  instinct  seemed  almost  to 
approach  the  reasoning  faculty  ;  for,  when  the  danger  was 
past,  the  hen  arose,  and  the  brood  commenced  busily  pick 
ing  at  every  seed  or  tiny  stone,  as  if  anxious  to  improve 
the  time  till  they  should  be  again  invaded. 

What  a  moral  we  could  have  drawn  of  watchfulness 
against  impending  dangers  !  Were  we  alike  careful  and 
used  our  forecast  aright,  how  many  wrecks  of  fortune  and 
reputation  might  be  saved  !  The  hawk  still  pursued,  but 
the  hen  baffled  his  designs  by  her  unceasing  care.  So 
might  we  escape  many  furious  birds  of  prey,  did  our 
reason  serve  us  as  well  as  her  instinct ! 

The  weaned  calf.  Grazing  by  the  door  of  the  hus 
bandman's  cottage  was  the  brindled  calf.  The  mother 
was  a  singularly  gentle  creature,  and  overflowed  with 
natural  milk,  beside  that  of  "kindness."  She  was  so 
cherished,  that  her  progeny  was  reared  to  take  her  place ; 
and  the  frisky  little  animal  would  eat  bread  from  the 
hand,  drink  warm  milk  from  the  pail,  and  so  readily 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  261 

accommodate  herself  to  her  owner's  wishes,  that  she  never 
bellowed  for  her  mother,  but  quietly  took  what  was  given 
her;  and,  when  tired  of  grazing,  as  if  fond  of  human 
sympathy,  would  stand  in  the  door-way  and  thrust  her 
nose  within ;  and  so  the  tender  creature  won  the  good 
will  of  all  around  the  rural  homestead.  Early  training 
effected  all  this ;  and  might  it  not  be  so  with  a  superior 
race,  if  they  were  early  led  to  the  cultivation  of  the  heart? 
Might  they  not  be  reared  by  faithful  mothers,  and  trained 
by  after-influences,  to  become  benefactors  of  our  race? 

The  unruly  cow.  The  farmer  called  her  "breachy." 
She  showed  her  skill  one  morning  in  removing  from  her 
enclosure.  She  was  driven  to  the  rich  pasture,  but  had 
an  unaccountable  love  of  straying  out  of  it.  No  sooner 
had  the  little  driver  deposited  her  safely,  and  whistled 
his  way  homeward,  than  the  restless  creature  took  her 
horns  and  raised  every  rail  from  its  post,  and  made  her 
way  to  the.  public  road.  A  passer-by  put  up  the  fence, 
and  travelled  on,  thinking  he  had  done  good  service  to  a 
neighbor. 

It  so  happened,  at  nightfall,  that  the  owner  of  the  cow 
went  for  her,  and,  finding  her  in  the  road  grazing  con 
tentedly,  he  easily  inferred  that  the  faithful  boy  had  not 
turned  her  into  her  pasture ;  for  how,  reasoned  he,  came 
the  fence  up  ?  Surely,  the  creature  that  could  tear 
down,  could  not  replace  the  work  !  In  vain  did  the  boy 
protest  that  he  put  the  animal  where  he  was  desired  ;  and 
it  was  only  when  his  master  learned,  from  him  who  put 
up  the  bars,  that  it  was  so,  that  he  was  reinstated  in  his 
confidence. 

What  a  lesson  this  should  teach  us  to  moderate  our 


262  SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS. 

opinion  of  acts,  which,  circumstantially  viewed,  seemed  to 
present  but  one  side,  and  that  an  unfavorable  one  !  We 
might  have  added  another  additional  argument,  which 
proved  that  the  cow  had  not  been  put  in  the  pasture, 
viz.,  the  neighbors  had  observed  her  all  day  feeding  out 
of  it.  How  frequently  do  our  prejudices  become 
strengthened  by  the  superadded  weight  of  trifling  cir 
cumstances  ! 

The  worn-out  horse.  He  fed  in  the  door-yard.  For 
many  years  he  had  done  service  in  the  heavy-laden  team, 
and,  pacing  back  and  forth  to  the  neighboring  village, 
he  had  carried  the  heavy  lumber.  But  now  his  joints 
grew  stiff,  his  legs  refused  their  oifice,  and  the  poor 
creature  was  turned  in  the  verdant  lawn  to  graze  at  will. 
When  he  laid  down,  he  could  not  rise  without  assistance ; 
and  the  blanched  eye  of  the  poor  animal  told  full  well 
that  he  was  a  sufferer.  Yet  he  meekly  fed,  and  his  mas 
ter  had  a  hope  that  he  would  again  do  service.  Did  you 
never  see  other  worn-out  specimens,  those  who  had 
drudged  and  trudged  life's  dusty  ways,  that  only  laid  by 
when  a  sense  of  helplessness  forbade  them  to  labor? 
They  never  enjoyed  but  in  prospect,  and  the  treasures 
of  years'  accumulation  had  little  worth  when  the  palsied 
limbs  and  dim  visions  of  premature  old  age  came  upon 
them. 

And  there  were  other  "  summer  sights."  The  ant 
was  toiling  upon  her  bed  of  sand,  the  hornet  was  build 
ing  his  clayey  nest,  the  swallow  was  fluttering  over  the 
babbling  brook,  the  caterpillar  was  preparing  for  her 
transformation,  and  all  nature  seemed  obedient  to  the 
laws  of  its  Creator.  Truly,  this  seemed  a  good  world, 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  263 

a  pleasant  world,  and  why  should  we  not  call  it  a  happy 
world'?  "Because,"  said  Uncle  Jethro,  "we  have 
sinned."  "Well,  then,"  I  hopefully  replied,  "  keep  on 
repenting,  and  do  not  be  the  only  exception  that  mars 
the  original  design  of  its  Maker.  By  improving  the 
present  world,  and  acting  wisely,  who  can  doubt  but  one 
far  more  attractive  will  burst  upon  our  vision  when  we 
exchange  time  for  eternity?" 


WORDS   OF   KINDNESS. 

NELLY  McKiN  was  a  child  of  Scottish  descent.  Her 
father  died  in  her  infancy ;  and  her  mother,  being  strait 
ened  in  pecuniary  circumstances,  was  advised  to  seek  in 
America  a  home  for  herself  and  child,  as  offering  better 
remuneration  for  the  toilsome  life  of  plain  sewing,  to 
which  she  now  resorted  for  a  livelihood.  The  poor  woman 
lent  a  credulous  ear  to  the  story  that  money  flowed  plen 
tifully  in  our  streets,  and  embarked  to  assure  herself 
of  the  fact. 

Upon  her  arrival  she  found  herself  nearly  penniless, 
exhausted  by  a  long  voyage,  and  landed  upon  an  inclem 
ent  shore,  with  none  to  raise  the  eye  of  pity  or  extend 
the  hand  of  relief.  She  was  a  stranger,  and  knew  not  to 
whom  to  apply.  Even  her  own  countrymen  seemed 
hardened  by  severity,  and  manifested  no  tenderness 
toward  the  new  emigrant  who  appeared  among  them. 

Little  Nelly  could  only  cling  to  the  scanty  skirts  of 
her  mother,  and  in  wonder  trudge  through  our  streets, 
unable  to  divine  why  her  mother  sought  such  an  inhos 
pitable  shore.  Besides,  she  was  the  only  surviving  one 
of  a  family  of  eight  children. 

After  many  fruitless  attempts  to  command  labor,  and 
a  shelter  which  would  wear  a  neat  and  comfortable  air, 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  265 

Mrs.  McKin  at  length  fell  in  with  an  honest,  pitying 
heart  of  her  own  sex,  from  the  Emerald  isle,  who  offered 
to  share  lier  room  and  furniture  with  her  till  such  time 
as  she  could  recompense  her  for  the  kindness. 

Mrs.  McKin  then  followed  the  direction  of  some  falsely- 
styled  philanthropic  people,  who  directed  her  to  certain 
slop-shops,  where,  by  excessive  toil,  she  could  only  man 
age  to  procure  her  daily  bread,  leaving  scarcely  a  cent 
whereby  she  could  help  defray  the  rent  of  her  tenement. 
The  poverty  and  loneliness  of  her  own  heart  she  could  bet 
ter  have  endured,  had  she  not  been  compelled  to  witness 
the  inroads  it  made  upon  the  tender  susceptibilities  of 
little  Nelly.  The  child  had  always  been  accustomed  to  a 
plenty  of  common  food,  and  she  had  hitherto  ate  it  with 
a  blithesome  spirit, —  and  that  always  sweetens  the  coars 
est  fare.  But  now  there  was  a  stint ;  both  her  mother 
and  herself  could  not  enjoy  their  homely  meal,  and  feel 
that  their  appetites  were  appeased ;  and  so  one  coaxed  the 
other  to  take  the  last  spare  morsel,  each  feeling  the 
other  had  the  most  need  of  sustenance. 

It  may  seem,  to  many  outside  observers  of  human  con 
dition,  that  to  feel  the  cravings  of  hunger  is  an  unneces 
sary  thing.  They  think  of  their  full  larder,  and  of  the 
over  supply  which  they  would  gladly  render  to  such. 
But  how  do  the  destitute  know  where  to  find  such  a  sup 
ply  1  How  gladly  would  the  Scotchwoman  have  become 
the  useful  inmate-  of  a  family,  or  her  little  Nelly  have 
lent  her  aid,  could  such  a  place  have  been  assigned  them  ! 
Yet  they  lived  in  a  neighborhood  where  luxuries  abounded, 
themselves  inhabiting  the  only  room  over  a  livery  stable, 
which  was  occupied  as  a  "poor  tenement." 
23 


266  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

Little  Nelly  at  length  became  what  we  call  a  "  shav 
ing  girl."  She  used  to  frequent  the  carpenters'  shops 
and  fill  her  basket ;  and  then,  going  to  the  doors  of  the 
opulent,  she  sometimes  obtained  a  few  cents,  with  which 
she  bought  a  loaf  of  bread,  which,  in  her  first  efforts,  so 
gladdened  her  heart  that  it  really  deprived  her  of  her 
usual  appetite.  She  had  a  winning  voice,  a  sweet  smile, 
and  clear  eye,  which  looked  as  if  no  taint  of  sin  lurked 
beneath,  and  no  hypocritical  guise  concealed  the  truth  of 
her  somewhat  reluctant  confession  of  poverty.  Still,  she 
met  with  a  cold  and  forbidding  reception  at  most  of  the 
places  where  she  sought  for  aid,  and  not  unfrequently 
was  the  door  rudely  shut  in  her  face,  with  the  coarse 
expression,  "Begone,  and  never  trouble  me  again!" 
Perhaps  this  grating  language  was  not  entirely  charge 
able  upon  those  that  uttered  it ;  for  are  not  our  domestics 
so  constantly  admonished  to  beware  of  street  beggary,  that 
they  only  reiterate  the  language  which  their  employers 
may  have  put  in  their  mouths  1 

And  so  little  Nelly  trudged  once  more  to  a  door  she 
had  often  frequented  without  being  severely  repulsed. 
The  domestics,  at  varied  occupations,  heeded  not  her 
gentle  ringing  of  the  gate-bell;  but  the  lady  of  the 
house  answered  it.  The  soft,  plaintive  voice  of  the  deso 
late  child  struck  a  vein  of  tender  sympathy  in  the  heart 
of  that  lady.  She  took  her  full  basket  of  shavings,  and 
kindly  added,  "  Come  in,  my  little  girl,  and  warm  your 
self." 

A  tear  stood  in  Nelly's  eye.  It  was  shed  at  the  voice 
of  kindness.  So  she  followed  her  now  friend,  and  an- 
swered  her  many  inquiries  as  to  her  place  of  abode  and 


SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS.  267 

her  destitution,  in  such  a  truthful  and  simple  manner  as 
completely  won  the  heart  of  her  benefactress.  She  imme 
diately  went  to  a  receptacle  of  cast-off  garments,  and, 
taking  therefrom  a  supply  suited  to  her  condition  in  mid 
winter,  most  surprisingly  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  des 
olate  child  by  fitting  them  on  her  person,  and  tying  up  a 
little  package  for  her  mother ;  which  was  followed  by  so 
many  hearty  thanks  that  no  one,  by  the  look  and  man 
ner,  could  have  doubted  the  sincerity. 

This  kind  lady  did  not  feel,  as  many  do,  that,  before 
bestowing  her  alms,  she  must  first  make  a  formal  call  to 
become  an  eye-witness  of  absolute  poverty;  she  saw 
before  her  a  shivering,  thinly-clad  child,  and  she  knew 
by  substituting  more  comfortable  garments  she  was  doing 
no  evil  service ;  for  sometimes  we  seem  to  read  clearly 
in  the  eye  and  manner  of  a  sufferer  that  destitution  is  not 
synonymous  with  imposition.  So  she  bade  little  Nelly 
come  again  at  a  stated  time,  and  she  would  furnish  her 
with  another  supply. 

The  grateful  child  ran  home  in  perfect  delight.  The 
world  was  all  sunshine  to  her  now.  She  was  soon  at 
her  mother's  door,  and,  having  displayed  a  bright  silver 
piece,  a  basketful  of  comfortable  and  neatly-assorted 
provisions,  and  a  supply  of  clothing  which  exactly  met 
the  wants  of  the  mother,  they  both  fell  on  their  knees 
and  thanked  their  heavenly  Father  for  raising  up  to 
them  such  an  unknown  friend.  Few  more  fervent 
prayers  were  ever  breathed ;  and  the  little  girl  seemed 
wild  with  delight  at  her  unexpected  success.  She  bought 
two  candles  at  the  neighboring  grocer's,  and,  having 
secured  a  few  sticks  of  drift-wood,  that  mother  and  child 


268  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

were  really  more  heartily  glad  than  many  in  an  opulent 
mansion. 

At  the  time  appointed,  however,  for  Nelly  to  make 
her  next  call  upon  her  benefactress,  she  did  not  appear. 
That  evening  a  messenger  came  to  say  that  the  child  was 
very  sick,  and  could  only  beg  that  "  the  lady  who  spoke 
those  kind  words  to  her  would  come  and  see  her."  She 
spoke  not  of  outward  gifts,  —  it  was  only  the  kind  words 
which  seemed  to  linger  in  her  heart.  ' '  They  were  the 
first,"  said  she,  "that  were  ever  spoken  to  me;"  and 
they  were  the  last,  save  the  accents  of  a  mother's  voice, 
whence  nothing  else  could  emanate. 

Her  benefactress  called  to  see  her ;  but  Nelly's  eyes 
were  closed,  and  her  little  heart  beat  faintly.  She  could 
neither  hear  nor  see,  —  yet  .there  was  one  incoherent 
expression  Avhich  she  attempted  to  utter.  It  was  of  "  the 
lady  who  spoke  —  the  —  kind  words." 

This  simple  narration  is  strictly  true,  and  with  it  is 
embodied  a  touching  meaning  —  the  power  of  a  kind 
word  to  the  forsaken  and  friendless.  It  has  a  magic 
spell  which  often  reconciles  the  distressed  to  any  out 
ward  condition,  far  more  than  even  the  relief  of  present 
wants. 

Those  words  were  incorporated  in  the  soul  of  little 
Nelly.  She  went  to  heaven's  gates  with  the  cheering 
accents;  and  if  the  spirits  of  the  departed  are  permitted 
to  welcome  those  who  follow  after  them,  may  not  she  who 
spoke  those  words  of  kindness  hope  to  be  recognized  by 
that  grateful  child,  where  all  the  artificial  distinctions  of 
society  are  done  away,  and  the  sweet  charities  and 
benevolent  acts  of  this  life  are  alone  accounted  worthy 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  269 

of  remembrance  ?     Speak,  then,  0  speak  words  of  kind 
ness  to  the  suffering,  if  you  can  do  nothing  more ! 

Stands  at  thy  gate  no  suffering  child, 

With  sad,  imploring  air, 
Who  asks  of  thee  her  daily  bread, 

And  would  thy  pity  share  ? 
Lean,  shivering,  wan,  that  haggard  child 

Solicits  but  in  vain  ; 
Thy  door  is  closed  with  grating  voice,  — 

"  Begone  !  come  not  again." 

Methinks,  ere  long,  there  is  a  gate 

At  which  thou  knockest  too  ; 
And,  as  it  opes,  that  little  child 

Stands  present  to  thy  view. 
Her  guardian  angel  waits  to  hear, 

How  urgent  thy  request ! 
The  door  now  closes  with  the  voice,  — • 

"  I  know  thee  not,  thou  stranger  guest ; 
For,  inasmuch  as  to  this  child 

The  voice  of  love  thou  didst  deny, 
So,  now,  to  thy  solicitings, 

I  must  like  thee  reply." 

The  guest  stood  waiting,  quite  shut  out ; 

From  all  expected  bliss, 
And  felt  how  sad  was  the  reverse 

Between  that  world  and  this  ! 
23* 


EVADING    A    DUN. 


IT  is  curious  to  notice  how  some  people  can  evade  a 
dun.  There  is  the  rich  Mr.  Skinner,  who  buys  every 
thing  on  credit.  He  gets  his  work,  too,  done  by  the  best 
of  mechanics ;  but  they  are  not  cash  jobs.  If,  by  way 
of  accommodation,  a  person  to  whom  he  is  indebted  sends 
a  messenger,  stating,  "it  will  greatly  oblige  him  if  he 
would  cash  his  receipted  bill,"  sometimes,  if  he  feels  in 
a  pleasant  mood,  Mr.  Skinner  will  do  so,  provided  the 
fractional  part  over  the  amount  is  "given  in;"  but  let  a 
common  workman  present  his  bill  for  payment  a  few 
days  after  his  work  is  done,  and  he  will  be  told  "  to  go 
about  his  business ;  that  he  only  settles  his  accounts  when 
he  receives  his  dividends,  which  is  semi-annually ;  and 
that  if  he  wants  any  better  treatment  he  may  take  a  job 
of  some  one  else  the  next  time."  Now,  as  every  one 
knows  Mr.  Skinner  is  sure  pay  when  the  six  months  have 
expired,  he  is  passed  over  as  a  "hard  customer;"  and, 
to  keep  in  his  favor,  it  is  generally  known  that  only 
semi-annually  one  must  expect  his  payment. 

Sometimes,  Mr.  Skinner  boasts  how  much  the  interest 
amounts  to  which  he  derives  from  thus  withholding  a 
settlement ;  but  he  always  forgets  to  mention  how  much 
inconvenience  and  extra  interest  those  to  whom  he  is 
indebted  are  obliged  to  pay  to  meet  their  liabilities. 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  271 

Now,  with  our  neighbor  Tolman,  the  style  of  reason 
ing  is  very  different.  He  affirms  that  Mr.  Skinner 
inherited  his  wealth,  and  never  knew  the  anxiety  attend 
ant  upon  not  "quite  enough;"  whereas,  he  has  been  in 
strait  places,  and  feels  it  is  only  due  the  laborer  to  be 
paid  when  his  work  is  done.  He  therefore  never  has  any 
running  accounts,  and  it  was  never  said  to  him,  ' '  Will 
it  be  convenient  for  you  to  settle  our  little  bill  to-day  ?  " 
and  yet  he  seldom  gets  a  job  done  as  cheaply  as  friend 
Skinner,  for  he  has  not  the  desire  to  beat  those  down 
with  whom  he  contracts. 

There  is  another  class,  who  always  have  a  frivolous 
excuse  whereby  they  avoid  a  dun,  and  defer  payment. 
The  sight  of  a  bill  always  finds  them  with  an  excuse  for 
withholding  payment.  Either  "they  have  not  yet  ex 
amined  the  one  rendered,"  or  "  they  have  been  absent, 
or  disappointed  in  receiving  some  expected  remittances," 
or  "there  appears  to  be  a  slight  mistake  which  requires 
the  supervision  of  the  book-keeper;"  all  these  are  again 
and  again  urged  merely  to  postpone  a  settlement.  This 
is  the  delinquent  creditor  who  generally  settles  arrearages 
in  July  that  were  due  in  January. 

Then  there  is  the  man  in  moderate  circumstances,  who 
means  to  pay  as  soon  as  he  possibly  can,  and  who  hates  a 
dun  tremendously ;  but  he  is  constantly  assailed  by  a 
dapper  little  collector,  who  says,  "  We  are  greatly  incon 
venienced  by  such  small  amounts  as  yours,  sir,  and  when 
may  we  with  certainty  expect  our  bill  liquidated?" 
This  man  is  sure  to  be  punctual  to  the  time  assigned ; 
but  he  says  to  his  family,  "I  don't  know  how  it  is  that 
people  contrive  to  evade  duns,  and  postpone  payments ; 


272  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

for  my  part,  if  I  procure  an  article  one  week,  I  am  sure 
to  hear  from  it  the  next ;  while  my  neighbor  has  a  six 
months'  reprieve  without  having  an  item  presented  to 
him." 

The  fact  is,  nobody  is  afraid  to  dun  the  man  who  buys 
but  a  small  amount.  The  reasoning  is,  "  If  he  don't  pay 
promptly,  keep  on  dunning,  and  force  him  to  do  it ;  it  will 
be  no  great  loss  to  us  if  he  withhold  his  patronage." 
Whereas  Madam  Bruno,  who  rides  in  her  coach,  and 
buys  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  silks  and  satins  every 
six  months,  only  has  to  bid  her  coachman  stop  a  moment 
while  she  goes  in  to  the  book-keeper,  and  says,  "  My 
bill,  sir,  which  you  sent  me  last  week,  will  not  be  settled 
for  two  or  three  months  ;"  and  the  young  man  with  the 
pen  behind  his  ear  bows  very  obsequiously,  and  replies, 
"  Just  as  it  suits  your  convenience,  Madam  Bruno  ;"  and, 
as  she  walks  out  toward  the  door  to  her  carriage,  one  of 
the  firm  meets  her  with  a  most  complaisant  air,  and  asks 
"if  he  shall  not  have  the  pleasure  of  showing  her  some 
choice  fabrics  he  has  just  received  ?" 

Now,  who  says  there  is  no  advantage  in  keeping  a 
carriage  ?  If  any  one,  it  must  be  he  is  profoundly  igno 
rant  of  human  nature,  and  the  class  of  people  who  are 
dunned. 


A  PLEA   FOR  DOG-DAYS. 

EVERYBODY  vilifies  dog-days ;  there  is  no  damp,  un 
comfortable  morning,  —  no  day  when  the  furniture  is 
moist,  and  the  flies  light  heavily,  and  bite  voraciously,  — 
no  time  when  you  feel  debilitated  and  worn  down  with 
having  had  a  sleepless  night,  when  your  disturbers  have 
been  a  concert  of  cats,  whose  voices  could  not  harmonize, 
or  an  army  of  mosquitos  which,  attacked  you  on  every 
point, — but  forthwith  comes  the  exclamation,  "We 
always  have  such  trials  in  dog-days  ! "  And  so  this 
portion  of  time  has  come  to  be  voted  as  the  meanest, 
most  disagreeable,  unendurable,  of  all  days  in  the  calen 
dar. 

Now,  for  one,  I  should  like  to  know  how  we  could 
dispense  with  dog-days  ?  We  might  do  without  dogs, 
I  admit,  because  we  can  dispense  with  hydrophobia,  and 
that  emanates  from  the  canines ;  but  I  should  like  to 
know  how  we  could  live  without  the  results  which  spring 
from  dog-days.  Suppose  it  is  a  time  "  when  all  Bed 
lam  and  Parnassus  is  let  out,"  when  flies  do  bite,  and 
children  scream,  and  serenaders  are  out  till  midnight, 
and  the  animals  kick  in  the  stable,  and  the  house-dogs 
growl  and  howl  as  their  peculiar  prerogative,  and  women 
scold  their  husbands,  and  old  bachelors  clear  off  to  new 


274  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

boarding-houses ;  suppose  the  milk  is  sour,  and  the  air 
is  damp  and  foggy,  with  occasionally  a  flash  of  lightning 
and  a  roar  of  thunder ;  who  cannot  bear  six  weeks  out  of 
fifty-two,  which  are  not  altogether  so  pleasant,  when  the 
harvest  days  come  along,  and  the  earth  yields  her  richest 
products,  which  were  maturing  all  the  time  we  were 
defaming  the  weather? 

I  should  like  to  inquire  what  great  achievements  were 
ever  carried  forward  without  some  drawbacks,  some 
endurances,  some  days  of  despondency,  when  the  head 
ached,  and  the  heart  grew  sick  ?  Dog-days,  we  admit, 
are  peculiarly  trying  to  strong  as  well  as  weak  nerves  ; 
but  for  them,  what  woman  could  ever  induce  her  husband 
to  take  a  journey,  and  shut  up  the  house,  and  leave  his 
unpaid  notes,  and  welcome  every  railroad  train  that  car 
ries  him  further  and  further  from  bank  and  counting- 
rooms,  and  old  dingy  associations  ? 

If  there  were  no  dog-days,  what  would  become  of 
those  delightful  watering-places,  where  swarms  do  con 
gregate,  and  cheerfully  coop  up  in  seven-by-nine  bed 
rooms,  and  are  most  happy  to  pay  exorbitantly  for 
such  accommodations,  with  all  other  annoyances  thrown 
in. 

If  there  were  no  dog-days,  how  could  we  test  our 
endurance  of  physical  evils  ?  How  should  we  learn  to 
feel  grateful  for  the  difference  between  a  morning  when 
the  starch  is  literally  all  wrung  out  of  us,  when  our  cof 
fee  tastes  flat,  and  our  newspaper  items  are  insipid,  and 
our  family  are  all  out  of  sorts,  —  one  complaining  that 
her  hair  will  not  keep  in  curl ;  another,  that  her  newly- 
ironed  frock  is  all  tumbled ;  and  a  third,  that  the  shine 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  275 

has  disappeared  from  dicky  and  boots ;  I  say,  if  we  had 
no  such  mornings,  how  little  should  we  prize  those  cool 
autumnal  days  when  we  are  all  on  the  right  key,  and 
everybody  looks  smiling  and  feels  happy  ! 

And  then  there  are  the  free-and-easy  fashions  which 
dog-days  especially  countenance.  The  prim  gentleman 
can  sit  in  his  thin  coat,  and  keep  on  his  slippers,  doff  his 
neck-cloth,  unbutton  his  vest  if  a  fleshy  man,  swing  a 
fan  to  keep  off  the  flies  in  his  afternoon  lounge,  con 
descending  to  remark  on  his  wife's  flounces,  and  the 
uncomfortable  condition  of  gentlemen  who  are  burdened 
with  wigs ;  and  the  poor  woman  is  all  of  a  perspiration 
lest  the  false  appendages  when  taken  off  should  expose 
the  fact  of  her  husband's  indebtedness  to  them  for  his 
youthful  appearance ;  for  she  never  appears  with  her 
natural  charms,  save  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  room.  The 
hottest  morning  finds  the  prim  madam  with  her  foretop 
smooth  and  glossy,  her  "  stand-off"  under-skirt,  and  her 
rumpled,  iron-rusted,  white  morning-dress ;  for  the  prim 
lady  maintains  that  "dress  commands  respect." 

And  then,  besides  all  the  above  enumerations,  dog- 
days  have  a  tendency  to  cure  envious  people. 

It  was  a  hot  morning  some  time  in  August,  1850, 
when,  at  early  dawn,  I  looked  across  the  way,  and  espied 
my  neighbor,  with  his  packed  trunks  ranged  on  the  side 
walk,  and  other  undeniable  marks  that  they  were  fitting 
out  for  a  regular  campaign  in  the  country.  Presently 
he  locked  his  outside  door,  and  ran  across  the  street  with 
the  key,  to  know  if  I  would  take  charge  of  it  during  an 
absence  of  six  weeks.  Immediately  my  envy  was  ex 
cited.  Why,  reasoned  I  with  myself,  should  the  world 


276  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

be  so  unequally  divided  ?  And  then  came  the  query,  I 
wonder  how  he  can  afford  such  jaunts  any  better  than  I  ? 
Somebody  said  he  was  deep  in  "fancy  stocks."  I  hope  I 
did  not  wish  they  would  depreciate ;  but  strange  thoughts 
run  through  envious  brains.  At  any  rate,  when  he 
wheeled  round  the  corner  in  the  carriage,  with  all  his 
family,  my  impulse  was  to  leave  the  window.  Then  it 
flashed  across  my  mind,  how  came  he  to  think  /  could 
take  charge  of  his  key  for  six  weeks  ?  Was  it  decreed 
by  everybody  that  /  was  a  permanent  fixture  ?  I  had 
half  a  mind  to  travel  off  that  instant.  But,  as  the  day 
wore  away,  my  feelings  became  more  quiet.  In  a  day 
or  two  after,  as  I  was  looking  over  the  items  in  the 
morning  journal,  what  should  I  discover  but  that  "cer 
tain  burglars  had  entered  Mr.  S.'s  dwelling,  and  abstracted 
many  valuables,  besides  injuring  the  furniture  and  car 
rying  off  every  article  of  plate  !"  I  took  the  key  and 
marched  over  to  the  premises.  I  felt  no  envy  then ; 
everything  was  in  a  state  of  "glorious  confusion."  Added 
to  all  this,  we  were  telegraphed  that  one  of  my  neigh 
bor's  children  was  taken  sick  on  the  route,  and  they  were 
most  uncomfortably  situated  at  a  poorly-conducted  hotel ! 
Did  I  wish  myself  in  his  place  then,  think  you  1  This 
was  the  last  time  my  envy  was  excited.  I  felt  thankful 
I  had  a  home,  and  a  nice  bed,  and  airy  chamber,  and  a 
healthy  family ;  and  all  this  lesson  I  acquired  in  dog- 
days. 

What  if  we  do  perspire  freely  ?  What  if  the  feline 
race  do  hold  concerts,  and  the  canines  howl,  and  the 
babies  cry,  and  the  sky  lowers,  and  women  fret  ?  If  we 
are  but  at  home  all  these  things  can  have  an  amicable 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  277 

adjustment.  There  are  no  landlords'  bills  to  settle,  no 
"  items  "  to  quarrel  over  ;  and  the  effect  of  these  debili 
tating  dog-days  results  in  heavy  crops,  plenty  of  produce, 
a  purse  which  no  watering-place  has  emptied,  and  a  con 
firmation  that  the  necessity  of  the  stay  at  home  princi 
ple  is,  after  all,  the  most  salutary.  So,  wipe  the  brow, 
and  cheer  up  with  the  certain  good  results  of  dog-days. 
If  the  city  is  empty,  then  the  air  is  purer,  the  streets 
less  crowded,  and  one's  home  all  the  more  agreeable. 
24 


IN  A  DILEMMA. 

"  THE  child  will  die,  Mr.  Foote,  unless  we  have  some 
doctor, — and  who  shall  we  have?  Do  run  and  see 
neighbor  Gray." 

"  Mrs.  Gray -says,  have  a  homoeopathist,  by  all  means ; 
but  I  met  Mrs.  Gill,  and  she  says  it  is  all  a  humbug  to 
crack  up  this  system.  She  knows  two  children  who  have 
died  already  under  this  treatment ;  she  says,  try  no 
experiment,  but  doctor  in  the  old-fashioned  way,  on  the 
allopathic  system.  Then  you  will  have  nothing  to 
reflect  upon." 

Mrs.  Jones  drops  in  to  give  he?'  advice.  "  Now," 
says  she,  "as  you  are  an  inexperienced  couple,  I  am 
going  to  advise  you  to  try  cold  water  and  friction.  I  've 
literally  rubbed  diseases  down,  and  washed  them  off. 
Nobody  thought  my  little  Peggy  would  live,,  but  I  kept 
on  washing  and  rubbing  till  the  dear  creature  opened  her 
eyes,  and  seemed  bright  as  ever." 

A  pail  of  water  is  furnished  her,  and  a  flesh-brush 
and  hair  mitten.  The  child  squirms  and  cries,  and  the 
mother  declares  she  must  leave  off. 

Mrs.  Jones  is  in  the  other  room,  insisting  upon  it  the 
child  must  be  treated  with  "energetic  action,"  and  rubs 
accordingly,  to  get  up  a  perspiration.  Mrs.  Gill  says  she 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  279 

looks  upon  such  barbarous  treatment  as  suicide;  and 
Mrs.  Gray  says  calomel  is  just  as  bad,  but  one  of  the 
homoeopathist  powders  would  relieve  instantly. 

Here  Jim  runs  for  her  doctor,  Mrs.  Gill  sends  the 
father  of  the  child  for  hers,  and  Mrs.  Foote,  in  her 
excited  state,  remembering  how  "  hot-drops  "  once 
relieved  her,  pours  a  quantity  down  the  child's  throat. 

By  this  time,  the  two  physicians  have  arrived.  They 
exchange  glances  at  each  other,  and  inquire  if  they  are 
mistaken  in  being  directed  to  this  house.  They  refuse 
to  confer  together,  and,  both  feeling  their  dignity  some 
what  offended  by  the  novelty  of  being  sent  for,  as  if  the 
skill  of  each  is  called  in  question,  refuse  to  administer, 
and  both  decamp.  Mrs.  Foote  has  offended  Mrs.  Jones, 
and  the  child  is  now  left  quiet,  and  seems  relieved  ;  na 
ture  has  thrown  off  the  alarming  symptoms,  and  who 
shall  have  credit  for  the  cure  1  The  mother  says  it  was 
the  "hot-drops;"  the  father  says  it  was  the  quiet  after 
the  rubbing ;  and  Mrs.  Jones  says  she  did  the  work. 

And  now  comes  the  question,  who  will  they  employ 
when  the  child  is  next  seized  ?  People  are  all  afloat 
on  the  system  of  medicine.  One  doses  one  way,  and 
another  a  contrary ;  yet  they  both  recover,  have  perfect 
faith  in  their  own  way  of  doctoring,  and  are  loud  in 
declaring  against  others.  But  hear  the  conclusion  of  the 
whole  matter,  as  given  by  experience. 

Trust  not  thyself  to  quacks,  neither  in  medicine  nor 
religion.  A  prescription  for  thy  conscience  should  be  as 
accurate  as  one  for  thy  stomach.  Fast,  keep  thy  mind 
cheerful  and  thy  countenance  hopeful,  and  diseases  will 
not  often  come  to  thee ;  or,  should  they  threaten,  they 
will  not  find  thee  an  easy  prey  to  conquer. 


MALE   COQUETRY. 

"  WELL,  mere  attentions  ought  to  mean  something. 
If  you,  Mr.  Small,  have  been  appointing  such  special 
meetings,  making  engagements,  likewise,  to  ride  and 
walk,  and  everybody  has  construed  them  into  a  court 
ship,  unless  you  mean  something^  you  ought  to  pursue 
a  different  course." 

"  But  Mary  is  agreeable,  and  a  pleasant  girl  to  carry 
on  a  flirtation.  She  sighs  like  an  angel  when  I  tell  her 
it  will  be  inconvenient  for  me  to  call  for  a  week,  and  she 
actually  wept  when  I  left  her  for  my  travelling  tour.  I 
suppose  she  feels  dependent  upon  my  attentions." 

"Mr.  Small,  you  are  trifling  with  Mary's  affections. 
What  is  she  to  understand  by  your  glances  and  visits,  and 
walks,  and  moonlight  wanderings ;  by  your  serenades, 
your  selecting  her  as  your  first  partner  in  the  dance, 
your  call  the  next  morning  to  inquire  for  her  health,  the 
music-sheets  you  gave  her,  the  invitations  from  the  family 
which  you  accepted  to  dine  frequently  with  them,  and 
the  whole  stock  of  courteous  and  winning  ways  by  which 
you  sought  to  win  her  regard  1  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Small, 
what  did  these  things  do  but  raise  an  expectation?" 

"  Only  mere  attentions,  aunt;"  and  Small  took  his 
cigar,  and,  with  all  the  nonchalance  in  the  world,  acted  the 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  281 

comfortable  gentleman  who  never  did  a  wrong  deed  in  his 
life.  His  conscience  was  easy.  He  did  care  more  for 
Mary  than  anybody  else.  But,  then,  marriage  was  an  ab 
surd  thing ;  he  never  breathed  a  thought  of  it  in  her 
ear,  and  how  could  she  infer  anything  that  had  never  been 
expressed  ? 

"  Mr.  Small,  you  know  not  the  baseness  of  thus  tri 
fling  with  a  woman's  affections.  Mary  is  a  gentle,  confid 
ing,  lovely  girl ;  pure  as  the  mountain  dew,  and  unsullied 
as  the  white  violet  that  you  and  she  have  cultivated  in  her 
parterre  of  flowers  ;  but,  be  assured,  she  dreams  these 
'mere  attentions'  mean  something-.  Why,  the  very 
suggestion  of  your  name  mantles  her  cheek  with  such  a 
conscious  blush,  that  I  have  seen  her  turn  to  the  window 
for  concealment ;  and  then  you  may  be  assured  those 
lonely  musings  in  her  chamber,  and  those  solitary  walks 
by  the  river-side,  greatly  favor  the  idea,  that  in  the 
future  she  is  weaving  a  fantastic  wreath  of  ivy  over  a 
cottage,  wherein  are  the  charms  of  wedded  life.  But 
tell  me  plainly,  Small,  did  you  never  say  anything  by 
which  she  might  construe  these  attentions  into  that 
which  had  its  centre  in  the  heart  ?  " 

"Never,  aunt,  never!  And,  really,  your  eloquence 
has  quite  moved  me.  Mary  has  only  been  to  me  as  a 
pretty  pastime  of  my  idle  hours.  She  is  a  sweet  vocalist, 
and  we  have  only  sung  love  songs,  and  glanced  occasion 
ally  in  each  other's  faces.  With  the  old  man,  too,  I  have 
often  accepted  the  honor  of  a  glass  of  wine ;  but  I  can 
look  them  all  in  the  face  without  a  fear  of  being  arrested 
for  a  breach  of  promise ;  "  and  Small  puffed  out  a  long 
volley  of  smoke,  and  turned  over  the  pages  of  the  book 
24* 


282  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

as  if  lie  were  not  much  interested  in  its  contents,  since 

this  conversation  commenced. 

i 

Far  differently  was  Mary  occupied.  She  was  arrang 
ing  a  bouquet  of  flowers,  according  to  the  language  which 
they  indicated,  to  present  to  Mr.  Small;  or  she  was 
catching  the  sweetest  tone  of  music,  or  practising  the  last 
chorus,  hoping  it  would  meet  his  enthusiastic  approba 
tion  ;  and  when  she  was  alone  with  him,  she  was  hop 
ing  some  of  his  sentimental  sayings  might  be  construed 
into  some  definite  words,  that  the  mere  repetition  of  them 
might  clothe  them  with  an  unmistakable  meaning.  But, 
to  do  Small  justice,  he  never  did  mean  to  trifle,  except 
for  his  own  pleasure ;  for  he  was  supremely  selfish,  and, 
since  the  remarks  of  his  aunt  had  resounded  in  his  ears, 
he  resolved  to  absent  himself  yet  more  and  more ;  for 
he  would  not  injure  the  pure  affections  of  Mary,  not  he 
—  and  so  he  saw  her  the  less  frequently,  and  was  more 
taciturn. 

Mary  grew  sad.  She  lost  the  vivacity  of  spirits  and 
the  elasticity  of  gait  which  were  her  former  character 
istics  ;  there  was  a  sinking  at  the  stomach,  a  fluttering 
at  the  heart,  a  throbbing  in  the  head ;  restless  nights  fol 
lowed,  and  febrile  symptoms  called  for  medical  aid. 
Alas  for  the  prescription  which  could  not  effect  a  cure  ! 
Then  the  incipient  stages  of  consumption  began  to  ap 
pear,  and  a  change  of  place  was  recommended.  But 
Newport  and  Niagara  both  failed  in  restoring  the  bloom 
that  had  faded  upon  Mary's  cheek.  Mere  lookers-on 
spoke  of  the  baneful  effects  of  our  climate,  in  thus  sap 
ping  the  vital  springs  of  health ;  and  the  beautiful  world 
we  live  in  was  condemned  as  only  fostering  the  seeds  of 


SUBSTANCE   AND  SHADOWS.  283 

early  decay.  A  sea- voyage  was  at  length  undertaken. 
Italian  skies,  Swedish  landscapes,  and  England's  brac 
ing  air,  added  to  the  subduing  influence  of  time,  did 
give  a  partial  restoration ;  but  Mary  was  never  again 
the  same  blithe  and  happy  being  as  before  her  affec 
tions  were  thus  chilled.  There  was  a  tinge  of  ro 
mance,  however,  left  in  her  nature.  She  lived  among 
flowers  and  pensive  scenes,  and  erelong  the  village 
clergyman  became  so  enraptured  with  her  pure  and  gen 
tle  nature,  that  he  offered  her  his  hand,  and  soon  after 
rejoiced  in  the  possession  of  so  precious  a  treasure.  Yet 
there  was  a  sad  history,  all  unrevealed  in  words,  which 
those  mere  attentions  had  caused  to  tinge  and  shade  her 
once  bright  and  joyous  spirit. 

And  Mr.  Small  was  still  pursuing  one  gala-day  of 
enjoyment.  He  did  occasionally  wonder  if  Mary  were 
perfectly  happy.  He  still  had  a  kind  of  regard  for  her 
welfare  ;  but  the  field  was  large  and  his  friends  promis 
cuous.  He  had  since  flirted  with  a  dozen  hearts  and 
pretty  faces ;  they  were  to  him  like  garments  when 
slightly  worn,  which  he  threw  off  without  compunction 
as  some  fresh  charmer  appeared.  Yet  Mr.  Small  was 
tolerated  in  excellent  society;  flirt  as  he  might,  and 
entrap  the  affections  as  he  did,  he  was  always  re 
ceived  with  welcome,  and  scarcely  a  mother  in  the  land 
but  would  have  freely  consented  to  bestow  her  daugh 
ter  upon  him;  for  Small  inherited  a  large  fortune, 
had  a  singular  faculty  of  pleasing,  and  his  mind  was  just 
cultivated  enough  to  make  him  a  fascinating  companion  ; 
but  he  was  a  heartless  wretch,  and  caused  more  sighs 
than  smiles  from  having  lived  in  the  world. 


LOVE  OF  FASHION. 

You  may  talk  about  love  of  parents,  and  conjugal 
love,  and  brotherly  love,  and  love  of  humanity,  and  love 
of  the  church ;  but  what  do  they  all  amount  to,  when  put 
beside  the  love  of  fashion, —  that  everlasting  pride  of 
appearance,  which  drives  so  many  into  insanity,  which 
makes  so  much  wretchedness  on  account  of  unpaid  bills, 
which  torments  when  one  would  be  at  ease,  which  pro 
duces  a  restlessness  which  no  drug  can  relieve  ?  Yes, 
that  insatiate  demand,  which  must  be  appeased,  makes 
the  bane  of  existence  to  many  sensitive  minds ;  good- 
natured  fellows,  who  hate  to  deny  their  wives  and  daugh 
ters  ;  who  never  did  say  "  no  "  to  an  importunate  request ; 
Avho  are  made  to  believe  it  is  necessary  to  have  half  a 
dozen  French  hats  and  a  change  of  jewelry  once  a 
month ;  who  can  easily  be  persuaded  by  daughter  or 
wife  that  a  change  of  climate  is  demanded  by  their 
impaired  health.  All  these  get  the  better  of  a  man's  con 
dition  when  his  pecuniary  resources  are  insufficient,  and 
he  is  the  most  unhappy  man  alive.  Place  him  on  a 
splendid  couch  —  is  there  any  ease  for  him  1  It  is  not 
that  fly  that  lights  upon  his  face  which  annoys  him.  Those 
unpaid  bills,  and  the  face  of  that  dunning  little  urchin, 
who,  twice  a  week,  wishes  to  know  "  when  it  will  be  con- 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  285 

venient  to  settle  Mr.  Todd's  bill,"  take  all  the  starch 
out  of  his  dickey,  and  all  the  flavor  out  of  his  coffee. 
He  turns  over  his  newspaper  ;  but  what  avails  it  to  him 
that  California  is  disgorging  her  mines  to  consignees  ?  — 
he  has  no  interest  there. 

'•Why  is  it  father  is  so  dull?"  inquires  young 
sixteen,  flounced  up  to  her  waist  —  one  item  which  helps 
out  his  misery.  And  just  at  this  time  the  cook  demands 
her  wages,  and  the  seamstress  exacts  her  pay,  and  "wife" 
wants  her  purse  replenished,  and  business  is  dull,  and 
fashion  is  importunate,  and  the  good  man  cannot  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it,  and  say  he  does  not  feel  as  if  he  could 
afford  the  supplies;  and  so  he  goes  on,  goaded  with  a 
load  of  unrevcaled  anxieties,  which  prey  upon  his  health, 
and  completely  victimize  him,  so  that  he  pays  the  penalty 
by  a  short  and  fatal  fever,  or  a  paralysis,  or  some  malady 
which  suppressed  grief  has  engendered. 

And  what  a  family  is  left !  The  quantity  of  bomba 
zine  and  crape  for  mourning  his  loss  tells  the  story. 
And  then  the  estate  is  declared  insolvent,  and  after  a 
great  outcry  about  the  extravagance  of  the  man's  family 
—  why,  a  purse  is  made  up  by  the  friends  of  the  de 
ceased,  and  presented  to  the  widow ;  and  she  still  keeps 
cook,  chamber-maid,  and  parlor-girl,  yet  forever  has  a 
moisture  about  her  eyes  as  she  speaks  of  the  sacrifices 
she  makes  on  account  of  her  "altered  circumstances." 

Let  a  poor  mechanic  die,  and  how  people  proclaim, 
"  Well,  he  has  left  a  smart  wife,  and  likely  children,  who 
can  earn  their  own  living  !  "  And  who  would  not  rather 
be  the  independent  wife  of  the  mechanic,  than  the 
patched-up  widow  of  the  late  fashionable  man  ? 


CHANGING  PLACES. 

A  RESTLESS,  roving  habit,  seems  to  be  gaining  in  our 
community.  Once  it  was  considered  almost  indis 
pensable  to  a  good  marriage  that  the  husband  should  be 
the  owner  of  the  house  he  occupied,  especially  in  the 
country.  Now,  everywhere  has  become  a  city,  every 
body  has  assumed  city  habits.  The  country  shoemaker 
hires  his  tenement,  because  he  does  not  consider  himself 
as  "  a  fixture  "  in  any  village ;  the  shopkeeper  is  making 
a  trial,  and  boards  his  family  at  the  hotel ;  the  minister 
even  has  abandoned  the  old,  ivy-grown  parsonage,  and 
takes  "  lodgings  "  with  some  wealthy  parishioner.  In 
the  city,  the  trades-people  move  into  the  country  in  the 
summer,  and  back  again  in  the  autumn.  We  have  few 
social  firesides,  and  seldom  does  a  man  sit  under  his  "  own 
vine  and  fig-tree." 

What  Ave  are  to  become,  where  we  are  to  gather  the 
household  band  fifty  years  hence,  on  a  time-honored 
"  Thanksgiving,"  or  a  "  Merry  Christmas,"  is  a  mat 
ter  of  some  perplexity.  If  there  are  no  family  "man 
sions,"  of  course  one  strong  tie  is  broken  that  linked  us 
with  the  past.  As  it  now  is,  who  can  talk  of  his  early 
home?  The  child  is  born  in  one  town,  schooled  in 
another,  his  lot  is  cast  in  yet  another  for  subsistence ; 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  287 

and,  perhaps,  the  far  West  is  destined  to  hold  his  family, 
and  be  his  sepulchre. 

I  should  not  wonder  if  our  New  England  homes,  our 
old  family  records,  the  places  where  our  fathers  lived, 
the  very  tombs  of  our  ancestors,  in  coming  time  should 
only  be  a  beautiful  history  —  relics  which  have  passed 
away  under  the  all-powerful  ban  of  present  "improve 
ments."  Do  you  not  know,  reader,  many  a  homestead  that 
has  been  transmitted  for  half  a  century,  nay,  more,  some 
times  a  hundred  years,  from  father  to  son,  and  again  to  the 
same  descendant  of  the  same  name ;  in  the  best  parlor 
of  which  you  may  find  the  "coat  of  arms,"  "the  record 
and  genealogical  tree,"  where  all  the  different  branches 
are  traced  1  And  who  would  think  of  removing  such  a 
relic  any  more  than  displacing  a  landmark  1  But  times 
are  beginning  to  change.  The  most  promising  son  hears 
of  large  fortunes  made  in  trade ;  of  golden  California,  or 
some  region  where  the  slow  accumulations  from  agricul 
tural  toil  dwindle  into  insignificance.  He  goes  to  that 
spot ;  perhaps  fails  in  health  and  purse ;  but  still  the  life 
of  a  farmer  does  not  suit  his  taste,  and,  rather  than  return 
back  and  take  "  the  homestead,"  where  he  might  live 
respectably,  and  die  regretted,  he  suffers  his  patrimony 
to  be  sold  into  the  hands  of  strangers,  takes  his  pittance, 
perhaps  settles  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  dies  of 
some  "fell  disease,"  and  his  children  never  see,  and 
scarcely  know,  their  father's  birthplace  ! 

The  ennobling  business  of  agriculture  is  too  often  ex 
changed  for  one  of  traffic  or  speculation  in  some  distant 
city.  This  arises  partly  from  our  aversion  to  hard  labor; 
but  could  I  depict  to  you  the  thousand  vexations,  the 


288  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

struggles,  the  heart-sickness,  nay,  more,  the  ruin  of 
health  and  loss  of  all  the  vigor  which  manly  toil  would 
give,  I  know  you  would  desire  to  be  carried  back  to  the 
plough,  the  scythe,  the  sickle,  and  the  threshing-floor. 
These  are  toils  which  a  few  hours'  suspension  will  enable 
you  to  prosecute  again  with  cheerful  hope ;  but  who  ever 
forgets  "  protested  notes,"  settlement  Avith  a  "  hard  cred 
itor,"  and  the  stigma  and  loss  of  manly  strength  which 
he  feels  in  never  being  able  to  do  business  in  his  own 
name  ? 

Young  men,  beware  of  change.  All  is  not  enterprise 
that  is  ranked  as  novelty ;  all  is  not  a  mine  of  wealth 
which  looks  so  gilded.  You  may  part  with  your  integ 
rity  by  leaving  your  home ;  you  may  secure  a  post  of 
honor  by  remaining  there.  See  where  duty  leads,  not 
where  inclination  prompts,  and  your  course  will  be  right. 

Home  !  the  old  home  of  thy  nativity  !  Is  there  no 
charm  in  its  venerable  look,  in  its  ancient  trees,  in  the 
murmurings  of  that  brook,  in  the  yard  where  thou  hast 
frolicked,  and  the  green  fields  where  thou  hast  sported  ? 
If  not,  sell  the  homestead  —  it  matters  not  to  whom ;  but 
if  there  be  a  sacred,  touching  influence  in  the  spot,  keep 
it ;  often  visit  it,  if  thy  lot  is  cast  away ;  go  to  the  tombs 
of  thy  ancestors ;  keep  alive  the  sentiment  of  love  which 
once  animated  their  bosoms,  and  be  assured,  when  your 
spirit  takes  its  flight,  your  last  aspiration  will  be  "  bury 
me  with  my  kindred ;  let  me  sleep  in  death  near  the  spot 
where  I  awoke  to  life." 


THE  AUDIENCE  AND  THE  LECTURER. 

WE  hope  it  is  an  innocent  amusement  to  watch  the 
promiscuous  company  in  a  lecture-room,  especially  a 
crowded  one.  Arrive  at  what  hour  you  may,  somebody 
is  sure  to  have  preceded  you.  "  Silsby,"  the  man  with 
the  high  dickey,  always  "  foregoes  "  his  tea,  that  Ire  may 
occupy  his  particular  seat  directly  in  front  of  the  lec 
turer.  He  carefully  arranges  his  wig,  draws  up  his 
high  overcoat  collar,  secures  as  much  elbow-room  as  is 
necessary,  pulls  out  his  evening  paper,  runs  over  the 
doings  of  the  legislature  and  common  council,  and  notes 
particularly  the  action  upon  the  subject  of  a  public 
library,  as  he  is  a  bachelor,  loves  reading  at  a  low  rate, 
and  imagines  there  may  be  some  spare  seats  in  the  appro 
priated  room. 

Next  in  turn  comes  in  the  Widow  Wadman.  She  is 
generally  found  on  the  same  settee  with  Silsby,  although 
there  appears  to  be  no  affinity  between  them,  since  the 
bachelor  is  quiet,  and  the  old  lady  is  all  of  a  nettle. 
She  has  so  many  things  to  look  after  ;  her  spectacles,  her 
fan,  her  opera-glass,  her  muff,  and  her  over-shoes,  are 
all  in  particular  places,  before  she  can  hear  a  word.  That 
little  roguish  elf  beside  her  is  her  grandson,  and,  as  she 
cannot  see  in  the  distance,  his  tiny  neck  is  continually 
25 


290  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

on  the  stretch  to  ascertain  for  the  old  lady  whether  "  the 
Pickle  family  have  come  in,  and  if  General  Bounce  has 
taken  his  seat,  and  whether  he  sees  the  governor  yet." 

Off  in  yonder  corner  sits  an  unhappy-looking  couple, 
a  man  and  his  wife,  undoubtedly.  The  man  is  a  grocer, 
and  the  passage  of  the  Maine  liquor  law  would  ruin  his 
trade  ;  he  is  conning  over  some  paragraph  adverse  to  his 
trade,  and,  heavens,  what  a  frown !  His  wife  asks  him 
a  question,  and  he  shakes  his  head.  Those  pipes  and 
quarter-casks  in  the  custom-house  fill  his  brain. 

Right  behind  him  sits  Commodore  Apsley.  He  has 
been  to  a  dinner  party,  and  his  eyes  look  heavy  and  red. 
By  hit  side  comes  in  a  dapper  little  clerk,  and  a  young 
lady  with  a  white  nuba  on  her  head.  All  the  world  with 
them  goes  well ;  they  are  talking  of  some  adventurous 
sleigh-ride,  or  some  jilted  swain  who  went  too  far  in  his 
attentions,  and  the  fair  damsel  played  a  game  with  him. 

Beyond  them  is  a  freshly-engaged  widower.  How 
gracefully  he  bows  his  lady  into  her  seat !  —  and  the 
feathers  wave,  and  the  smiles  play  around  dimpled  cheeks, 
and  he  inquires,  "if  she  is  entirely  at  her  ease,  —  warm 
enough, —  does  she  feel  the  fatigue  of  walking?  —  and  then 
such  a  pleasant  tete-a-tete  follows  !  How  strange  it  is 
that  Mrs.  Simple  must  make  the  ill-natured  remark,  ' '  It 
wasn't  so  in  the  first  wife's  day!  She,  poor  woman, 
had  to  delve  all  day,  and  get  the  baby  to  sleep  before  she 
went  out ;  but  in  those  days  the  man  had  not  made  his 
fortune.  Well,"  she  sighs  out,  "that  is  human  nature, 
out  and  out." 

All  eyes  are  now  directed  to  a  particular  quarter,  — 
some  "distinguished  stranger"  is  whispered.  He  looks 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  291 

blandly  round  upon  the  audience ;  the  man  in  the  front 
seat  rises,  and  most  heartily  shakes  hands  with  "the 
illustrious,"  passes  him  to  his  seat,  and  feels  much  taller 
for  the  honor  conferred. 

Now  scores,  of  all  ages,  sexes  and  conditions,  crowd 
the  seats,  alleys  and  vacant  places ;  chairs  and  settees 
are  in  high  requisition ;  somebody  has  trodden  on  the 
skirt  of  old  Mrs.  Rodman's  dress,  and  she  is  almost  fran 
tic  ;  Corporal  Stubbs  sneezes ;  Major  Baron  gapes ;  the 
boys  in  the  gallery  stamp,  and  the  organist  enters,  pulls 
out  all  the  stops,  and  thunders  music  loud  enough  to 
make  one  deaf  a  week  afterwards  ! 

But  the  filling-in  is  not  yet  entirely  completed.  There 
are  those  "  reserved  seats,"  where  some  stupid  fellow 
places  his  "  lady  attendant,"  when  they  are  suddenly 
driven  out  by  the  keeper  in  charge,  while,  just  after,  the 
particular  friends  of  the  orator  enter  and  fill  them. 

Finally,  the  lecturer  enters.  He  may  have  a  school 
boy'*  gait,  or  a  sailor's  swagger,  or  a  State-street  air ; 
and,  if  he  lacks  in  confidence,  few  places  are  so  trying 
to  his  natural  gait  as  the  nine  feet  on  the  stage  to  the 
chair  behind  the  desk.  Now  he  takes  out  his  notes,  — 
opens  a  large  white  handkerchief,  puts  it  to  his  mouth  as 
an  excuse  to  look  upon  the  audience,  and  forthwith  is  an 
nounced  and  begins  his  theme.  It  takes  some  minutes  to 
engage  the  minds  of  such  an  audience.  You  have  their 
eyes  at  first,  that  is  all. 

Woe  to  the  lecturer  that  is  prosy  !  In  a  short  time, 
in  the  further  gallery,  boots  are  in  motion ;  the  conta 
gion  spreads,  the  door  slams,  —  it  is  all  over  with  the 
speaker.  The  old  lady  in  front  is  nodding ;  the*  man 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

behind  her  is  fast  asleep  with  his  mouth  partly  opened. 
The  Widow  Wadman  has  dropped  her  fan,  and  the  en 
gaged  couples  are  in  close  conversation.  Why  spin  your 
yarn  to  its  close,  my  good  sir  ? 

Far  different,  however,  is  the  reception  of  the  witty 
lecturer.  He  tells  an  anecdote,  or  says  a  "droll  thing," 
and  what  a  universal  shout  ensues !  Everybody  is  wide 
awake.  Those  a  "little  hard  of  hearing "  place  their 
hands  behind  their  ears  to  catch  the  sound  ;  the  boys  are 
all  on  tiptoe  to  clap,  and  old  men  bring  down  their  canes. 
The  orator  proceeds,  holding  his  audience  captive. 


MODERNIZING. 

Tins  modernizing  has  been  the  ruin  of  many. 
Says  one,  I  have  tried  it,  and  experimental  knowl 
edge  is  worth  a  great  deal.  I  once  thought  it  would  Ite 
a  fine  affair  to  repair  a  house  somewhat  out  of  fashion, 
and  thereby  I  should  get  the  cost  of  my  "  improvements  " 
back  again  in  the  market  value  of  my  estate.  I  wanted 
to  make  a  large  parlor  without  folding-doors  ;  —  so  I  called 
upon  my  carpenter  and  stated  my  plans,  which  he  assured 
me  could  be  executed  very  satisfactorily.  I  engaged  him 
forthwith,  and  set  about  the  business.  It  soon  damped 
my  wife's  ardor,  however,  when  she  saw  the  dust  and 
confusion  it  occasioned,  and  so  I  was  forced  to  hold  on  my 
way  without  sympathy.  The  rooms  were  thrown  into 
one,  but  what  could  I  do  with  the  ceiling  ? 

The  mason  protested  against  patching  the  walls ;  — 
of  course,  then,  the  whole  ceiling  must  be  torn  down, 
newly  lathed,  and  freshly  mortared.  Then  the  lookers- 
on  perceived  as  clearly  as  myself  the  importance  of  cut 
ting  down  the  windows,  throwing  out  an  iron  balustrade, 
&c.  This  was  concluded  on  ;  —  but,  alas  !  who  ever  want 
ed  two  fire-places  in  one  room,  especially  when  both  were 
rendered  useless  by  a  furnace  ?  And  what  could  be  done  1 
Why,  I  had  gone  so  far,  that  I  endeavored  to  make  the  work 
25* 


294  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

as  faultless  as  possible  to  myself  and  future  purchasers. 
So  the  fire-places  were  removed,  and  yet  the  unseemly 
jog  in  the  wall,  which  the  chimney  occasioned,  left  the 
monument  to  tell  where  they  once  stood.  Just  as  I  be 
gan  to  think  I  saw  the  end,  every  one  who  stepped  in  to 
witness  "the  improvements,"  made  the  remark,  "What 
a  pity  that  the  ceiling  is  so  low  !  I  think  the  cutting 
down  of  the  windows  a  decided  failure  !  " 

Upon  settling  with  the  carpenter,  I  found  my  "  im 
provements  "  amounted  to  nearly  six  hundred  dollars; 
my  mason  was  sure  his  bill  ought  to  be  two  hundred 
more,  for  the  work  on  the  chimneys  was  a  heavy  job ; 
and  sundries  amounted  to  a  few  dollars  short  of  a  thou 
sand.  And  had  I  accomplished  my  aim  1  Scarcely  one 
looked  upon  the  work  but  wondered  I  had  not  sold  the 
old  house  as  it  was,  and  purchased  a  modern  one ;  for 
all  the  doors,  windows,  ceilings,  and  work  in  other  parts 
of  the  building  bore  distinct  marks  of  the  very  year  it 
was  completed.  I  was  not  satisfied,  after  all  my  labor, 
and  concluded,  after  passing  one  uncomfortable  winter  in 
my  large  modern  room,  which  the  furnace  was  hardly  suf 
ficient  to  heat,  —  I  say,  I  concluded  to  sell  my  house  ! 
At  a  private  sale  I  entirely  failed  in  my  purpose;  at 
public  auction  it  was  finally  sold  for  just  two  hundred 
less  than  I  had  been  offered  before  I  attempted  to  improve 
it !  Passing  by  the  premises  a  month  after,  I  felt  a  little 
chagrined  to  see  my  improvements  all  displaced,  and  the 
owner  putting  things  back  into  the  very  condition  from 
which  I  had  removed  them. 

Modernizing  is  very  common ;  but  we  should  remember 
some  things  look  best  as  they  are  first  made.  For  exam- 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  295 

pie,  a  man  generally  looks  best  when  he  looks  naturally. 
False  whiskers  seldom  improve  him ;  a  wig  does  not  look 
better  than  the  gray  hair  which  age  puts  on  ;  indeed,  any 
attempt  to  improve  nature  will  generally  prove  a  failure. 

I  pity  the  girl  who  uses  rouge  instead  of  her  natural 
complexion,  —  who  modernizes  her  form  almost  to  distor 
tion,  —  who  puts  on  artificial  airs,  and  simpers  affectedly ; 
for  I  am  well  aware  the  object  is  never  accomplished  by 
such  means.  • 

This  is  the  season  for  modernizing.  We  lay  aside  hats, 
bonnets,  coats,  dresses,  for  a  fashionable  summer  attire. 
See  that  it  is  becoming  before  you  purchase.  Do  not 
wear  a  fashionable  hat  if  you  dislike  it ;  do  not  wear  an 
unbecoming  bonnet  because  your  milliner  tells  you  it  is 
fashionable.  Do  not  repair  your  house  unless  you  can 
improve  it ;  do  not  do  it  unless  you  can  afford  it.  Make 
no  outlay  which  will  haunt  you  if  "money  continues 
hard."  or  "  banks  refuse  to  discount  freely ;  "  but  always 
remember,  seasonably,  few  people  grieve  over  full  purses, 
while  many  cry  over  empty  ones  ! 


THE  FIRST  BEREAVEMENT. 

LIFE  had  been  to  me  one  summer's  day.  In  that  day, 
to  be  sure,  there  had  been  some  variation  ;  but  the  clouds 
that  overcast  my  sky  only  caused  the  sun  to  appear  in 
greater  effulgence.  From  bereavement  I  had  been  spared ; 
and  the  tear  of  sympathy  had  not  lavishly  been  bestowed 
upon  others'  sorrows.  Judge,  then,  of  the  preparation 
of  mind  with  which  I  met  the  sickness  and  death  of  Myr- 
tilla. 

She  was  a  lovely  child ;  it  was  the  general  impression, 
as  well  as  the  feeling  of  parental  partiality.  She  had  been 
lent  us  scarcely  two  full  years  when  the  messenger  of 
disease  prostrated  her,  which  was  only  a  prelude  to  the 
Angel  of  Death.  I  had  often  sat  and  watched  the  expan 
sion  of  immaturity.  The  first  accents  of  speech,  how 
fondly  were  they  treasured,  repeated  and  reechoed,  by  the 
little,  fragile  child,  who  seemed  delighted  with  the  trans 
ports  she  thus  inspired  !  And  that  feeble,  tottering  little 
walk,  — supported  by  chairs,  and  held  up  by  various  arti 
cles  of  furniture ;  and  occasionally  the  giving  way  of 
some  hold,  which  more  generally  ended  in  a  merry  laugh 
than  the  natural  cry.  And  now  she  began  to  notice,  and 
gradually  develop  the  infantile  mind.  Sweet  child  !  we 
taught  her  the  old-fashioned  but  never-worn-out  petition 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  297 

of,  "Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep;  "  and  years  have 
passed  since  those  lisping  accents  were  repeated,  yet  they 
are  as  audible  to  me  this  moment  as  if  just  echoed  from 
her  voice. 

When  sickness  came  and  assumed  a  threatening  aspect 
my  courage  forsook  me.  My  faith  (had  I  any  '.*)  was  too 
weak  for  my  reliance.  I  felt  she  must  not  die.  Had  I 
not  a  better  right  to  the  darling  child  than  her  heavenly 
Father  ?  And  why  was  she  forced  to  suffer  ?  Innocent 
and  lovely,  yet  there  she  lay,  racked  with  pain,  fevered, 
tossing,  delirious ;  and  I  was  equally  so,  questioning  the 
Almighty's  behest ! 

The  third  day,  Myrtilla  died.  A  transient  calmness 
seized  me,  as  I  looked  upon  features  now  at  rest ;  yet  an 
agonizing,  choking  sensation  followed,  and  I  would  fain 
have  gone  Avith  her.  But  whither  had  she  gone  ?  Now 
the  awful  realities  of  the  unseen  world  began  to  dawn  upon 
me.  In  vain  did  my  friends  try  to  assuage  my  anguish, 
by  comforting  assurances  that  ' :  of  such  were  the  king 
dom  of  heaven,"  and  that  Jesus  especially  blessed  such. 
My  sorrow  was  selfish  :  I  wanted  my  treasure  back  again. 
For  weeks  I  carried  about  with  me  a  disquieted  spirit. 
I  shrank  mostly  from  friendly  intercourse,  save  with  those 
to  whom  I  could  detail  the  uncommon  traits  of  my  lost 
one's  character.  I  could  not  compose  myself  to  read. 
Occasionally  I  would  peruse  some  touching  passages  in 
the  records  of  the  evangelists,  showing  me  how  Jesus 
sympathized  with  the  mourners ;  but,  alas  !  I  wanted  a 
present  Saviour  to  restore  my  child,  as  was  done  to  the 
widow  of  Nain. 

I  felt  myself  rebellious  and  sinful,  unreconciled  and 


298  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

distressed  ;  and  I  wandered  about,  performing  my  neces 
sary  duties,  but  having  no  heart  in  them.  Many  pious 
and  many  worldly  friends  visited  me.  One  besought  me 
in  the  offices  of  prayer  and  holy  submission  to  yield  to 
God's  wisdom,  who  always  appoints  what  is  best ;  while 
others  begged  me  in  the  round  of  gayeties  and  recrea 
tions  to  try  and  obliterate  the  past ;  but  I  could  bear 
anything  better  than  the  trial  of  forgetfulness. 

There  was  no  sudden  change  came  over  me,  which 
immediately  subdued  me,  and  yet  there  was  something 
wholly  distinct  from  the  effacing  hand  of  time  which 
brought  resignation  into  my  heart.  My  feelings  were 
gradually  softened ;  my  sympathies  were  quickened ;  I 
felt  chastened,  but  not  destroyed.  A  friend  of  mine 
begged  me  to  interpret  to  him  my  experience.  I  thought 
it  over,  and  the  first  distinct  beaming  of  God's  countenance 
upon  my  stricken  soul  was  in  answer  to  my  first  prayer. 
It  was  a  feeble  utterance  ;  it  was  wrung  from  my  heart 
after  anguished  weeks ;  but  it  was  sincerely  uttered  : 
"Father,  lead  me  to  understand  thy  dealings  with  me." 

Years  passed  on,  and  we  were  gladdened  by  the  birth 
of  five  promising  children.  They  were  healthy  and  vig 
orous  ;  yet  I  never  felt  I  had  such  a  claim  upon  them  as 
was  preeminently  attached  to  Myrtilla.  That  chastise 
ment  was  my  first  sorrow ;  and  it  broke  my  stubborn 
heart.  It  did,  indeed,  prove  a  blessing  in  disguise.  I 
have  since  often  watched  by  the  death-beds  of  little 
children ;  I  have  witnessed  the  convulsive  agony  of  pa 
rental  hearts,  and  have  longed  to  tell  them  that  there  is 
relief  for  such  troubled  spirits ;  but  the  words  died  upon 
my  lips. 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  299 

Yet  I  can  never  tell  you  all  the  benefits  of  my  earthly 
sorrow.  It  so  wonderfully  checked  my  reliance  on  the 
perishing,  and  implanted  such  a  hope  in  immortality, 
that,  bitter  as  was  the  cup,  and  reluctantly  as  I  drained 
its  bitter  dregs,  yet  of  the  fruit  of  such  an  experience 
I  would  not  be  dispossessed,  could  that  child  have  lived 
to  have  been  to  me  an  earthly  ministering  angel. 

' '  Where  your  treasure  is,  there  will  your  heart  be 
also,"  says  Holy  Writ ;  yet  I  would  not  think  to  carry 
the  earthly  attachment  to  a  heavenly  state.  I  fear  we 
become  too  selfish,  too  carnal  in  our  desires,  to  reach  that 
blissful  state.  I  may  not  recognize  my  lost  child  there  as 
once  mine  ;  I  may  not  know  any  of  my  dearest  kindred 
and  loved  companions  of  this  world  ;  but  I  trust  to  God's 
love  for  that.  If  I  need  such  helps  to  make  my  enjoy 
ment,  undoubtedly  they  will  be  furnished.  What  may 
now  militate  against  my  wishes,  I  may  leave  behind  me 
with  the  perishing  flesh.  I  would  not  fix  my  thoughts 
on  eternity  by  making  it  consist  of  similar  pleasures  I 
have  known  here.  Alas !  that  Christian  hearts  should 
be  so  distrustful  of  a  Father's  fostering  care  ! 

We  are  too  prone  to  feel  that  the  friends  who  contrib 
uted  to  our  enjoyment  here  will  again  rejoin  us  here 
after.  It  is  a  delightful  thought,  I  well  know  ;  but  who 
can  tell  how  independent  the  disembodied  soul  may  be 
of  what  made  its  essential  enjoyments  while  here  1  JSTo 
doubt  there  are  hidden  avenues  to  our  future  bliss,  which 
no  mortal  conception  has  penetrated.  That  "  redeemed 
host "  may  all  be  equally  dear  to  us,  employed  in  differ 
ent  missions,  but  all  fulfilling  their  immortal  destiny. 
The  death  of  a  child,  or  any  other  bereavement,  the 


300  SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS. 

severe  disappointment,  the  failure  of  earthly  plans,  in 
deed,  anything  that  has  rebuked  our  waywardness  and 
inclined  us  to  take  hold  of  our  Father's  hand  for  sup 
port,  may  be  a  primary  cause  of  gratitude,  for  which,  for 
eternal  ages,  we  may  thankfully  bless  our  God  ;  but,  we 
must  remember,  our  souls  are  destined  to  unknown  ex 
pansion.  It  may  not  be  necessary  in  eternity  that  we 
should  remember  our  birthplace  in  time,  only  just  so  far 
as  the  discipline  of  earth  was  the  preparation  for  the 
enjoyment  of  heaven.  "We  talk  profoundly  of  the  capa 
bilities  of  the  soul.  Alas,  how  little  do  we  understand 
them  !  The  lifting  of  the  thin  veil,  which  partitions  us 
from  such  a  revelation,  may  disclose  such  new  senses, 
such  an  illimitable  state  of  progression,  as  to  utterly  ab 
sorb  all  our  earthly  associations.  Our  employments  may  be 
so  happily  adjusted  to  our  enlarged  conceptions,  that  the 
friendships  of  time  may  seek  no  renewal.  But  in  one 
thing  let  us  be  confident :  as  we  had  no  personal  agency 
in  furnishing  the  auxiliaries  which  promote  our  present 
peace,  so,  beyond  this  state  of  being,  we  shall  undoubtedly 
be  introduced  to  just  as  radiant  and  beautiful  visions  as 
our  improvement  here  has  fitted  us  to  comprehend  or 
enjoy  there. 

But  our  faith  is  so  weak  !  Do  we  not  hear  sorrowing 
friends  exclaim,  under  any  fresh  calamity,  "  If  the  de 
parted  know  the  sufferings  of  the  friends  they  have  left 
behind,  it  must  embitter  all  their  glorious  state  ;  "  as  if 
we  only  closed  our  eyes,  and  carried  into  the  future  the 
same  earthly  feelings  with  which  we  struggled  here  ! 
No,  I  would  say ;  nothing  but  the  impress  of  this  life 
follows  us ;  the  aggregate  of  good  or  evil  is  concentred 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  301 

in  our  judgment,  which  the  soul  passes  upon  itself,  as 
with  heavenly  vision  it  then  sees  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning.  How  can  we,  then,  for  a  moment  suppose,  that 
the  great  Author  of  immortality  left  such  a  flaw  in  his 
almighty  wisdom,  as  not  to  guard  us  against  every  defect 
which  our  finite  minds  may  suggest  1  I  would  arm 
thee  against  such  a  jealous  distrust,  my  bereaved  friend. 
Infinite  wisdom  has,  in  holy  keeping,  all  those  "  who 
have  crossed  the  flood."  See  thou  to  thy  earthly  com 
bat,  and  struggle  on  for  the  attainment  of  a  more  perfect 
character,  if  thou  wouldst  make  thy  sorrows  blessed. 
26 


PROPERTY. 

ACQUISITION  and  possession  are  two  very  different 
things,  producing  very  different  results.  The  desire  to 
get  seems  an  instinctive  element  in  many.  Indeed,  we 
know  not  but  it  is  a  natural  element  of  our  being.  Take 
a  glance  at  life.  The  little  infant  first  opening  his  eyes 
cries  for  something  out  of  his  reach ;  the  blaze  of  a  can 
dle  arrests  his  attention,  and  he  would  fain  put  his  tiny 
fingers  in  the  brilliant  light.  Childhood  is  just  as  grasp 
ing.  The  boy  begs  for  his  kite,  his  marbles,  and  various 
playthings,  which,  when  obtained,  fail  to  satisfy.  There 
is  always  some  other  lad  who  has  a  coveted  treasure. 
The  youth  of  sixteen  longs  to  feel  he  is  no  more  a  minor, 
and  boasts  what  he  will  do  when  that  period  arrives. 
The  man  looks  out  from  his  busy  store,  and  hears  of  the 
retired  cottage,  and  sighs  for  ease  amidst  luxurious 
indulgence,  where  the  irritating  bustle  of  trade  will  no 
more  reach  him.  The  man  of  retirement  feels  a  vacuity, 
and  wonders  why,  as  he  ranges  over  his  elegant  man 
sion  and  his  gravelled  walks,  so  little  enjoyment  attends 
the  acquisitions ;  and  old  age,  still  tenacious  of  life, 
recounts  the  exploits  of  an  early  period,  dwells  on  the 
changes  of  society,  and,  when  not  solaced  by  the  prospect 
of  a  heavenly  home,  tightly  clings  to  its  earthly  posses- 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  303 

sions,  and  even  mourns  that  so  little  time  is  left  to  hold 
on  to  present  acquisitions.  The  desire,  nay,  even  the 
struggle  to  attain,  seems  to  be  the  period  of  the  greatest 
enjoyment. 

A  friend  invited  one  of  his  companions  to  visit  him,  and 
promised  to  show  him  the  beauty  of  his  garden,  the 
varieties  of  trees,  the  shrubbery  and  green-house,  where 
so  many  rare  plants  were  deposited.  He  accepted ;  and, 
having  surveyed  the  beautiful  enclosure,  and  feasted  his 
eyes  upon  all  it  contained,  as  he  turned  away  from 
beholding  it,  he  bowed,  and  said,  "  I  thank  you." 
"  For  what?"  asked  his  friend;  "surely  you  have  had 
nothing  yet  demanding  gratitude."  "I  think  differ 
ently,"  replied  the  friend.  "I  have  gazed  upon  all, 
which  has  cost  you  so  much  money  and  anxiety,  for 
nothing,  and  have  been  about  as  much  benefited  as  your 
self;  for,  after  all,  you  can  do  no  more  than  look  upon 
these  things." 

It  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  the  man  in  posses 
sion  of  his  million  must  be  unhappy.  If  he  is  indolent, 
he  will  undoubtedly  be  so ;  but,  if  his  mind  is  active,  of 
course  his  hands  will  be  often  employed,  and  the  ennui 
which  attends  repletion  will  not  be  his  fate.  Why  is  it 
that  the  poor  and  middling  classes  so  often  envy  the  rich  ? 
Certainly  these  people  have  the  advantage  of  fortune's 
favorites.  A  gentleman  who  owned  a  valuable  horse 
once  remarked  that  his  groom  took  the  most  pleasure 
with  him.  Said  he,  "I  am  always  fearful  when  I  drive 
him  that  he  will  be  lamed,  or  when  I  stop  at  a  hotel  that 
he  will  not  be  properly  attended.  My  servant  has  no 
such  fears.  He  drives  him  at  will ;  whistles  as  he  goes  ; 


304          SUBSTANCE  AND  SHADOWS. 

follows  him  to  the  stable,  and,  refreshed  by  his  ride,  sits 
down  and  enjoys  a  hearty  meal.  I,  on  the  contrary, 
have  some  vexatious  bill  to  settle,  or  stocks  are  depre 
ciating  and  money  is  difficult  to  invest ;  and,  with  these 
thoughts  crowding  upon  each  other,  the  zest  of  my  appe 
tite  is  taken  off." 

The  man  of  wealth  has  many  tenants  who  inhabit  his 
shops  and  houses.  He  employs  a  man  to  collect  his 
rents ;  the  person  returns,  and  informs  him  one  is  about 
removing,  another  says  he  shall  do  the  same  unless  some 
repairs  are  made,  while  a  third  deems  it  needful  to  his 
comfort  that  the  pure  Cochituate  should  be  conveyed  to 
his  chamber.  Some  of  the  rents  are  paid,  some  are  left 
in  the  arrears,  and  some  will  never  be  paid.  The  owner 
finds  real  trouble  in  his  possessions. 

You  may  call  these  trials  small  trifles,  unworthy 
one's  attention,  yet  they  do  help  to  make  up  life  ;  they 
discompose  the  spirits,  lead  one  to  dwell  upon  the  ingrat 
itude  of  human  kind,  and  often  wish  they  were  acquir 
ing  instead  of  possessing.  There  is  a  kind  of  vigor 
attends  the  getting  —  a  spur  which  urges  us  to  make 
sacrifices,  and  a  deceitful,  yet  buoyant  hope,  that  the 
future  will  remunerate  us  for  all  present  discourage 
ments.  But  in  this  we  see  the  wisdom  of  our  heavenly 
Father,  who  permits  us  never  to  rest  satisfied  with  earthly 
attainments.  Thus  the  soul  is,  as  it  were,  pushed  along 
to  realize  its  higher  destiny,  and  seek  its  more  enduring 
treasures  in  things  which  perish  not  with  the  using. 


THE   CAST-OUT  EVERGREEN. 

IN  a  tangled  wild-wood  there  grew  a  luxuriant  ever 
green.  It  had  taken  root  in  the  damp  earth  beneath  a 
clump  of  dried  leaves.  But  gradually  it  peeped  forth, 
and,  throwing  its  feeble  tendrils  around  the  scattered  and 
decayed  branches  which  autumnal  and  wintry  winds  had 
thickly  strewed  around,  it  entwined  itself  by  such  sup 
porting  embraces,  until  it  reached  a  trailing  length,  and 
assumed  a  brilliant  verdancy,  which  made  it  a  conspicuous 
beauty  among  the  dried  shrubbery  and  mouldering  foliage 
which  encompassed  it.  And  there  for  years,  it  may  be, 
it  had  grown  unobserved.  Even  the  bright  rays  of  the 
sun  but  scantily  and  slantingly  shone  in  upon  its  branch 
ing  progress  ;  for,  among  the  majestic  oaks  and  stately 
pine-trees,  the  eclipse  which  fell  upon  the  evergreen  was 
sometimes  almost  total.  Yet  it  knew  no  stint,  no  fading 
hue ;  and  no  rude  footsteps  had  ever  trampled  upon  it. 
In  its  obscurity  it  seemed  to  obey  one  of  the  great  laws 
of  nature,  and  silently  to  live  on  with  increasing  beauty 
and  strength.  At  every  few  paces  a  livid  green  shot 
out,  more  tender  and  beautiful  than  others  with  which  it 
claimed  affinity,  and  thus  an  added  beauty  was  given  by 
its  changing  colors. 

But  erelong  footsteps  are  heard  in  this  sacred  forest. 
26* 


306  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

Over  briers  and  brambles,  over  underbrush  and  rubbish, 
the  pursuit  is  urged,  and  the  lovely  evergreen  is  at  length 
espied  in  the  tramp.  The  fatal  knife  soon  severed  it  from 
its  damp  root.  Gently  was  it  untwisted  from  its  support 
ing  holds,  and  through  many  a  gap,  and  over  many  a 
wild  and  thorny  bush,  had  it  extended  itself.  It  was  in 
deed  hailed  by  the  gleaners  as  a  rare  treasure,  and  care 
fully  and  faithfully  was  it  twined  in  a  broad  receptacle, 
which  was  designed  to  enclose  many  of  its  kindred ;  for  the 
Christmas  holidays  were  approaching,  and  this  undying 
evergreen  was  to  be  woven  in  a  chaplet  as  an  emblem  of 
the  Christian  faith. 

Its  destination  was  in  a  stately  mansion,  and  the  prep 
aration  was  in  view  of  scenes  of  festivity  and  joy.  By 
maiden  fingers  it  was  rounded  and  arranged  with  more 
perishable  wild  flowers,  and  hung  in  the  splendid  draw 
ing-room  windows.  Here  was  an  emblem  of  life  contrasted 
with  a  dreary  prospect  without ;  but  it  was  a  new  life  to 
the  vine  which  had  been  cradled  amidst  alternate  snows 
and  scanty  sunshine.  In  its  strange  atmosphere  a  radiant 
glare  of  light  always  beamed  upon  it.  When  the  setting 
sun  would  have  left  it  in  its  native  darkness,  the  brilliant 
artificial  light  shone  quite  as  strongly  upon  it.  And 
then  only  a  frosty  window-pane  lent  it  any  damp  and 
refreshing  aid  to  save  it  from  decay ;  for,  amidst  the 
heated  drawing-rooms  where  mirth  and  music  were  keep 
ing  time,  there  was  no  absence  of  a  blighting  heat  which 
withered  both  animate  and  inanimate  things.  Yet  for 
twenty  successive  holidays  did  this  evergreen  maintain 
its  position.  The  wild  flowers  which  were  first  put 
between  it  were  long  since  perished,  and  a  decaying 


SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS.  307 

beauty  was  now  resting  upon  the  evergreen.  It  twisted 
itself,  and  grew  rusty  and  fading.  But  it  had  answered 
its  purpose  —  it  had  maintained  its  place  as  long  as  the 
festive  season  lasted,  and  then  the  window  which  con 
tained  it  was  suddenly  thrown  up,  and  the  chaplet  was 
thrown  among  other  rubbish  into  the  street ! 

As  with  quiet  gaze  I  looked  upon  it,  I  too  saw  an  em 
blem  of  worldly  friendships.  It  was  no  more  suggestive 
of  Christian  faith ;  for  the  place  it  now  occupied  was  but 
an  emblem  of  fallen  greatness,  of  short-lived  remem 
brances,  and  of  cast-off  beauty.  And  while  I  moralized, 
a  little  tattered  beggar  picked  up  the  relic,  and  with  her 
cold  and  benumbed  fingers  sought  to  place  it  around  the 
crown  of  her  bruised  and  faded  bonnet.  Then  with  a 
lightsome  tread  she  made  her  way  to  yonder  attic,  where 
the  puny  baby  tore  it  in  pieces  upon  the  cold  hearthstone. 
Thus  ended  the  cast-off  evergreen  ! 

Shall  I  weaken  your  impression,  kind  reader,  by  an 
analogous  picture  ?  Have  you  never  seen  the  protected 
child  growing  up  amidst  silent  influences,  maturing  year 
by  year  in  a  steady  growth  —  the  pride  of  parental  fos 
tering,  throwing  out  the  tendrils  of  affection,  dreaming 
only  of  merry  days,  while  the  soft  waters  went  murmur 
ing  by,  and  in  their  placid,  unruffled  flow  seemed  to 
image  only  the  innocent  thoughts  and  face  of  him  who 
stood  upon  the  brink  of  the  stream  ?  By  and  by  comes 
a  rough  breeze,  and  the  image  is  no  longer  reflected. 
The  world  has  called  him  out  of  that  peaceful  home,  and 
he  mingles  in  a  new  and  heated  atmosphere.  For  a  time 
he  is  unmindful  that  he  has  severed  the  root  from  which 
he  drew  his  healthful  nutriment.  He  plunges  into  the 


308  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

strange  glare  of  brilliant  and  festive  life.  He  lives  in 
an  excited  and  pestilential  miasma.  By  slow  degrees 
his  moral  principles  are  undermined;  lie  is  enfeebled, 
perhaps  bloated,  perchance  fevered,  with  the  association. 
But,  alas,  he  has  withered  at  the  root,  and  men  cast  him 
out  like  the  worthless  evergreen  ! 

Is  it  not  so  with  the  devotee  at  fashion's  shrine  ?  So 
long  as  with  princely  fortune  one  gives  and  returns  the 
merry  dance,  and  provides  sumptuously  at  the  festive 
board,  is  he  not  sought,  caressed  and  flattered  ?  But 
remove  the  gilded  show  which  his  ample  fortune  sup 
plies  ;  let  him  now  buffet  the  fierce  gales  which  only 
plunge  him  still  deeper  in  the  dark  shades  of  poverty, 
and  is  he  not,  too,  "  cast  off"  as  the  evergreen  ? 

Alas,  that  man  should  be  rigid  and  cold  with  his  bro 
ther,  even  as  nature  with  her  rough  winds  and  fearful 
tornadoes,  which  sometimes  destroy  the  richest  treas 
ures  !  The  little  Avild-flower,  that  grows  so  comely  in  its 
silent  retreat,  untouched  by  foreign  hands,  puts  forth  its 
tender  branches  and  shuns  the  vulgar  eye,  content  to 
bloom  in  some  guardian  shade.  The  morning  and  even 
ing  sun  smile  upon  it ;  its  honeyed  blossoms  scent  the 
desert  air  ;  but  the  unpitying  frosts  of  autumn  leave  no 
vestige  of  the  flower.  It  came  from  nothing,  and  to 
nothing  it  has  returned  ! 

But  here  my  analogy  fails.  We  are  born  into  an 
endless  life,  and  if  we  suffer  ourselves  through  our  own 
misconduct  to  be  "  cast  off,"  we  cannot  smother  or  anni 
hilate  our  life.  Consciousness,  once  awakened,  never  dies. 
But  if,  by  adherence  to  the  firm  root  of  principle,  we 
fearlessly  tread  life's  thorny  passages,  and  find  ourselves 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  309 

"  cast  out  "  in  tlie  conflict,  no  whirlwind  or  earthquake 
can  destroy  the  germinating  principle ;  for,  unlike  the 
frail  duration  of  the  flower,  or  the  decay  of  the  ever 
green,  we  shall  yet  ripen  beneath  a  more  congenial  sky, 
under  the  guardianship  and  sunshine  of  a  Father's  pro 
tecting  love. 


THE  WELL-ORDERED   HOUSE. 

MY  friend  has  been  two  years  building  a  house,  in 
order  to  surround  himself  with  every  convenience  and 
comfort  that  can  possibly  be  brought  within  his  range. 
It  is  just  completed,  and  is  pronounced  a  perfect  model. 
The  most  exquisite  taste  is  now  being  displayed  in  the 
furniture.  He  has  imported  the  finest  specimens  of  mar 
ble  busts,  the  most  antique  vases,  and  some  of  the  rarest 
specimens  of  paintings  which  an  Italian  artist  could  bring 
out  on  canvas.  And,  when  the  whole  shall  be  completed, 
he  intends  to  invite  a  numerous  party  of  friends  to  inspect 
it ;  for  he  is  a  little  vain  of  the  perfect  specimen  he  is 
thus  enabled  to  exhibit. 

Yet,  after  all,  my  friend  is  not  a  good  householder.  The 
splendid  out-building  which  holds  his  body  has  furnished 
him  with  no  suitable  apartment,  well  fitted  up,  to  hold  that 
invisible  mind  which  is  still  vacant,  or  filled  with  a  thou 
sand  fancies  which  make  him  in  a  constant  state  of  unrest. 
He,  therefore,  walks  his  splendid  halls,  and  traverses  his 
magnificent  drawing-rooms,  where  the  mirrors  only  reflect 
his  discontented  countenance,  and  the  wan.  haggard,  look 
of  despair.  Evidently,  he  is  still  in  a  dilapidated  state ; 
the  real  tenement  in  which  he  lives  is  suffering  for  want 
of  repairs.  There  are  a  thousand  vexatious  disquietudes, 


SUBSTANCE   AND   SHADOWS.  311 

which  this  outside  show  does  not  remove ;  vacant  cham 
bers,  which  need  to  be  furnished ;  large  spare  rooms, 
that  need  to  be  brushed  and  ventilated,  and  set  in  order, 
for  the  guests  that  temporarily  reside  there. 

The  poor  man,  upon  whom  he  has  just  bestowed  his 
alms,  looks  somewhat  puzzled  to  interpret  that  despairing 
glance  he  cast  towards  him ;  he  is  at  a  loss,  moreover,  to 
interpret  the  strange  ordering  of  Providence  in  these 
seeming  inequalities  of  condition.  ' '  With  that  house, 
those  luxurious  couches,  servants  to  do  his  bidding, 
plenty  of  money  wherewith  to  anticipate  every  want,"  the 
poor  man  queries,  "why  does  he  not  look  more  like  a 
happy  man  ?  "  He  turns  away  from  that  massive  granite 
dwelling,  and  down  in  yonder  alley  he  carries  the  dollar 
just  given  him,  and  distributes  its  avails  among  a  swarm 
of  hungry  children  with  whom  he  lodges.  They  are  not 
his  own ;  but  the  feeling  of  pity  inspired  him  this  morn 
ing  to  beg  in  his  own  name  for  them.  The  food  is  pro 
cured  ;  and  those  faces,  which  hunger  has  made  lean  and 
wan,  now  brighten  with  gratitude,  and  they  bless  the 
kind  old  man  who  was  so  thoughtful  as  to  give  them  this 
bountiful  breakfast.  This  blessing  sends  a  thrill  of  trans 
port  through  an  infinite  number  of  fibres,  Avhich  lights  up 
the  love  in  his  heart,  and  makes  him  the  happiest  bene 
factor  in  the  world.  They  all  f  eat  their  meal  together, 
and  sunshine  plays  around  the  board.  There  are  merri 
ment  and  jocund  hilarity  ;  and  the  youngest  climbs  his 
knee,  and  repeats  her  little  hymn  of  gratitude. 

The  rich  man  took  his  meal  alone.  There  was  a  ser 
vice  of  silver  upon  his  table ;  the  smoking  Mocha  was 
distilled  for  an  epicurean  taste,  yet  the  flavor  was  un- 


312  SUBSTANCE  AND   SHADOWS. 

heeded ;  the  hot  roll  -was  scarcely  tasted,  for  he  was  fast 
becoming  a  dyspeptic ;  and  the  bit  of  sirloin  was  only 
cut  in  small  atoms  from  about  the  centre.  He  moved 
away  his  chair,  gave  a  deep  sigh,  rang  the  bell  for  the 
removal  of  his  delicacies,  and  paced  his  dining-room  with 
a  heavy  heart.  He,  too,  wondered  why  he  was  left  a 
prey  to  such  sad  forebodings ;  why  life  had  lost  all  its 
sweetness,  and  he  should  thus  fall  a  wreck  within  his 
marble  palace.  Evidently  he  had  taken  better  care  of 
his  outward  tenement  than  of  that  within.  One  half  the 
attention  paid  to  regulating  his  idle  fancies,  to  forgetful- 
ness  of  self  in  some  effort  to  relieve  another,  together 
with  a  cultivation  of  those  social  qualities  which  would 
gladden  his  heart,  would  have  made  him  what  he  so  ear 
nestly  desires  to  be,  namely,  a  happy  man. 

And  so  people  look  on  and  condemn  riches  as  the  bane 
of  personal  enjoyment  in  many  instances ;  as  hardening  the 
heart,  and  making  people  morose  and  churlish.  It  is  not 
the  mine  of  gold  which  necessarily  produces  this  result ; 
but  rather,  in  our  efforts  to  amass  it,  we  so  neglect  the 
interior  condition  of  our  dwelling,  as  to  be  incapable  of 
afterwards  enjoying  ourselves  when  most  ready  to  do  so. 

I  have  a  friend,  too,  who  is  not  a  good  housekeeper. 
Her  home  is  the  abode  of  neatness  and  precision.  A 
single  cobweb  could  not  be  found  in  all  her  house.  She 
is  forever  rearranging,  remodelling,  and  beautifying  her 
external  condition ;  yet  she  has  great  unrest  within.  A 
petty  vexation,  a  small  anxiety,  may  so  ruffle  her  feelings, 
that  in  that  capacious  and  well-ordered  dwelling  there 
shall  be  no  inward  peace  for  the  day.  Plainly,  trifles 
have  acquired  such  a  sway  over  her  feelings,  that  she  is 


SUBSTANCE    AND    SHADOWS.  313 

unable  to  rise  above  them.  You  can  trace  that  assumed 
cheerfulness ;  beneath  it  lies  a  world  of  harassing  thoughts, 
and  a  disquietude  with  which  her  friends  may  be  familiar ; 
but  they  can  never  know  its  hidden  depth.  Life  to  her 
is  all  a  cloud ;  there  is  a  painful  intensity  in  living.  The 
enjoyment  which  her  ample  means  might  furnish  is  rare 
ly  felt,  simply  because  she  has  never  removed  the  cob 
webs  and  dust  which  have  so  frightfully  accumulated 
within.  Had  the  mirror  which  so  often  reflected  her 
varied  apparel  but  shown  her  the  deformity  within ;  had 
that  small  beginning  of  indulgence  in  an  ill-tempered 
thought  been  subdued;  had  that  wayward  fancy  been 
subjugated  and  controlled  by  reason ;  in  one  word,  had 
she  sought  for  strength  from  above  to  enable  her  to  com 
bat  successfully  with  these  inward  foes,  undoubtedly  she 
might  have  become  as  efficient  an  interior  housekeeper  as 
she  is  now  an  outward  one. 

Alas  for  us  that  we  know  ourselves  so  imperfectly ! 
We  talk  about  being  <:  intimately  acquainted  with  our 
friends;"  we  analyze  their  motives,  and  pass  judgment 
upon  their  actions ;  but  what  in  truth  do  we  know  of  our 
"  own  interior  life  "  ?  And,  yet,  it  is  this  which  makes 
all  our  world ;  our  whole  prosperity  centres  here.  There 
would  be  much  more  significance  in  our  inquiring  after 
the  prosperity  of  the  soul,  than  the  health  of  the  body. 
Indeed,  the  former  quite  frequently  determines  the  state 
of  the  latter.  So  that,  merely  in  a  selfish  view,  to  become 
happy  and  well,  it  behoves  us  to  regulate  our  interior 
dwelling. 

Take,  for  example,  the  dyspeptic  man  or  woman.  You 
may  compound  for  them  all  the  drugs  in  the  medical 
27 


314  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

vocabulary;  but,  with  that  mind  "ill  at  ease,"  you  can 
no  more  effect  a  cure  than  you  can  cause  the  sun  to  shine 
at  midnight.  Hence,  physicians  so  frequently  recom 
mend  a  change  of  objects  as  most  beneficial,  something 
which  removes  the  moping  melancholy  of  ill-assorted 
thoughts ;  in  one  word,  the  refurnishment  of  our  secret 
apartments,  which  have  become  so  blackened  and  shattered. 
Yet,  after  all,  the  mere  journey  from  one  continent  to 
another  may  only  be  a  temporary  alleviation  of  our  in 
ward  distresses.  It  may  varnish  over  the  unsightly 
spots ;  but  they  will  reappear  in  coming  time,  unless  a 
more  radical  application  is  made.  The  truth  is,  we  are 
tempest-tost ;  we  have  lost  our  chart,  and  know  not  our 
latitude  ;  and  we  need  the  efficient  aid  of  more  than  a 
human  pilot.  The  mind  does  not  receive  permanent 
rest  by  change  of  place.  Have  we  not  long  enough  tried 
the  experiment  ?  The  spiritual  appetite  must  be  fed  upon 
spiritual  food.  We  crave  that  nutriment,  and  yet  vainly, 
nay  madly,  seek  to  appease  our  hunger  by  attention  to 
the  mere  shell  which  encases  all  that  is  truly  ill-condi 
tioned.  We  build  our  houses,  make  our  feasts,  go  out  in 
quest  of  social  intercourse,  or  shut  ourselves  in  well-stored 
libraries.  Yet  watch  yourself,  my  friend,  when  all  these 
allurements  have  ceased,  and  you  are  alone  with  yourself. 
What  is  the  foundation  of  your  future  hopes  ?  You  have 
plans  for  coming  time,  unquestionably ;  but  do  they  not 
all  take  hold  of  unsubstantial  enjoyments  ?  The  partial 
deception  may  gloss  over  your  real  needs  for  a  brief 
period ;  but  you  are  a  prodigal,  and,  until  you  come  to 
yourself,  no  permanent  peace  awaits  you.  Empty,  then, 
and  sweep  your  interior  dwelling.  Place  a  mirror  there 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  315 

that  shall  faithfully  disclose  your  true  character.  Regu 
late  the  furniture,  and  keep  it  in  order.  Subdue  those 
extravagant  fancies  which  cause  your  unrest.  Keep  your 
thoughts  tranquil.  Do  not  postpone  this  new  arrange 
ment  whereby  your  prosperity  is  secured.  Would  it  not 
just  now  be  a  favorable  time  to  inspect  this  inner  dwell 
ing,  and  attend  to  repairing  its  condition  1  It  is  better 
than  any  gift  which  a  friend  may  bestow.  It  is  better 
than  beautifying,  by  costly  .presents,  your  friends'  apart 
ments  ;  yet  such  an  inspection  shall  so  reveal  the  extent 
of  means  whereby  your  generosity  shall  be  displayed, 
that  every  proper  token  shall  be  bestowed ;  for  the  soul's 
prosperity  never  curtails  generous  impulses,  since,  in  its 
spacious  chambers,  it  admits  every  true  principle,  and 
hospitably  entertains  every  well-conditioned  guest. 


IN   A  "WORRY." 

SOME  people  seem  only  to  worry  out  existence.  They 
have  all  external  means  of  enjoyment,  yet  they  are  never 
at  ease.  A  lady  of  this  character,  with  ability  to  pro 
cure  herself  every  outward  enjoyment,  Avas  lately  con 
gratulated  upon  her  freedom  from  all  vexatious  and 
annoying  trials.  "Why,"  said  she,  "  I  'm  full  of  trouble. 
I  am  always  in  a  '  worry  '  about  '  Isaac ;'  when  he  returns 
from  sea  I  can  enjoy  nothing,  because  I  know  he  is  going 
again ;  when  he  is  at  sea,  I  am  always  expecting  to  hear 
he  is  dead,  or  cast  on  some  desolate  island."  Yet  "  Isaac" 
was  not  her  husband,  but  an  adopted  nephew,  upon  whom 
so  much  sympathy  was  lavished. 

Another  friend  I  could  name  is  always  tried,  or 
"worried,"  with  her  domestic  troubles.  "Bridget  got 
up  late,"  or  "  Netty  goes  out  too  often,"  or  "  Ned  is 
becoming  a  careless  driver ;"  and,  between  seeking  com 
fort  and  finding  it,  life  becomes  a  very  wearisome  affair, 
and  is  entirely  fretted  away  in  relating  troubles  that  have 
been  lived  over.  What  a  pity  it  is  that  we  are  so  forget 
ful  of  the  laws  of  inward  peace  as  to  brood  over  the  past, 
talk  about  its  evils,  and  thus  make  them  ever  present ! 

Then,  there  is  another  class  who  are  always  "  worried  " 
about  what  no  human  foresight  can  prevent.  An  east 
wind,  a  hot  day,  a  sudden  shower,  a  dense  fog,  or  a  heavy 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  317 

dew,  all  alike  vex  them.  Allowing  such  things  to  prey 
on  the  spirits,  makes  us  very  disagreeable  companions. 
Who  would  select  such  a  one  for  a  travelling  friend? 
Who  would  take  such  a  one  for  life  7  When  a  man 
considers  how  much  his  comfort  is  concerned  with  a  wife's 
temper, —  how  she  leads  him  through  life's  rough  places, 
with  a  violent  or  gentle  hand, — before  he  chooses  his  future 
destiny,  let  him  consider.  The  embryo  of  the  woman  is 
often  seen  in  the  child.  Petulant,  ungovernable,  indulged 
children  do  not  always  rise  above  the  natural  propensities 
of  early  years  when  they  arrive  at  womanhood ;  neither 
does  the  surly,  rough  lad,  often  become  the  agreeable 
gentleman.  Yet,  upon  the  disposition  to  meet  the  every 
day  discipline  of  life,  depends  all  our  enjoyment.  A  calm, 
trusting  spirit,  a  forbearing,  hopeful  temper,  a  counte 
nance  where  smiles  predominate, —  who  would  fear  to  unite 
with  such  a  one  ?  The  happiest  effect  upon  a  whole  life 
often  follows  a  well-matched  pair.  The  mild  and  amiable 
graces  will  blunt  the  rough  edges  and  the  awkward  man 
ners  of  one  nearest  our  hearts ;  for  the  magic  influence  of 
sympathy  is  electric,  and  assimilation  often  produces  the 
admirable  traits  we  come  in  contact  with,  and  a  likeness 
is  imperceptibly  stamped  upon  the  character.  It  has 
been  said  (I  know  not  how  truly),  that  gazing  upon  the 
benign  expression  of  the  portrait  of  a  deceased  and  be 
loved  friend,  will,  in  time,  produce  a  calm  and  serene 
expression  upon  the  gazer;  so  indelible  is  the  stamp, 
that  the  soul  of  our  friend  becomes  mirrored  in  our  own. 
Away,  then,  with  "worrying,"  fretting  trifles;  they 
mar  the  beauty  of  the  human  countenance,  and  eat,  like 
canker,  into  the  soul. 
27* 


THE  FADED  LEAF. 

IT  was  only  a  leaf  which  riveted  my  attention,  —  a 
dried,  sere,  yellow  leaf !  It  fell  from  yonder  tree,  whose 
luxuriant  shade  had  so  softened  and  mellowed  the  bright 
rays  of  the  morning  sun,  during  the  hot  and  sultry  days 
of  midsummer.  It  made  but  one  of  the  thousand  which 
had  helped  to  form  the  deep  shadow,  and  it  was  the  first 
to  fall ;  yet  it  seemed  possessed  of  a  restless  activity, 
now  it  had  dropped  from  its  former  companions.  The 
slightest  wind  wafted  it  under  busy  feet ;  anon  it  rose 
again,  as  a  higher  gust  came ;  then  it  whirled  along  the 
thronged  street  down  the  shallow  ravine  ;  and,  after  flut 
tering  and  dancing  like  a  thing  of  joyous  life,  it  was 
borne  into  the  watery  current  and  floated  down  the  nar 
row  "stream  into  a  vast  reservoir,  where  it  disappeared 
forever ! 

Just  after  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  I  missed  hundreds  of 
its  companions ;  at  length  they  all  disappeared,  and  only 
the  bare  branches  and  barren  trunk  stood,  unclothed  and 
unsheltered,  alone  !  Nature,  as  if  prodigal  of  her  moni 
tions,  put  on  a  sterner  countenance ;  and  chilly  winds  and 
clouded  skies,  and  heavy  storms,  succeeded ;  so  that 
her  summer  smile  was  followed  by  strong  indications  of 
her  inflexible  purpose  to  change  her  universal  aspect ; 


SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS.  319 

and,  added  to  these,  came  an  inscrutable  dispensation 
of  Providence.  In  yonder  apartment  was  the  friend  of 
my  summer  hours,  who  had  stood  with  me  beneath  the 
spreading  foliage  of  the  desolate  tree,  and  she  too  was 
smitten  by  a  sudden  disease,  which  caused  her  to  wither 
like  the  frail  leaf.  Many  tendrils  of  affection  were  en 
twined  around  her ;  loving  hearts  and  ministering  hands 
were  there  ;  but  the  common  decree,  that  causes  the  leaf 
to  fall,  had  likewise  been  passed  upon  her.  She  too 
faded,  withered,  and  fell.  We  bore  her  to  her  last  rest 
ing-place  among  the  rustling  leaves  and  tall  branches 
of  desolate  trees,  and,  with  a  few  clods  of  earth,  we 
raised  a  mound,  under  which  she  securely  sleeps.  And 
where  was  the  spirit,  with  its  unceasing  activity,  as  it 
floated  down  the  current  of  life  ?  Did  it  wander,  like  the 
leaf,  void  of  companionship,  till  it  plunged  into  a  vast 
abyss,  and  there  met  its  final  extinction  ?  It  could  not 
answer  me  one  of  the  thousand  queries  which  I  would 
fain  know.  But  nature  again  spake ;  that  leafless  tree 
was  only  preparing  itself,  by  stripping  its  foliage,  for  a 
greener  dress  and  more  luxuriant  shade ;  its  branches  were 
resting  awhile,  to  expand  and  strengthen  themselves,  and 
reappear  in  still  more  beauteous  attire.  This  seeming 
decay  was  not,  then,  real ;  the  going  away  of  my  friend 
was  only  a  preparation  for  higher  life.  "  But  why," 
said  a  lovely  form,  that  gently  whispered  in  my  ear,  and 
whom  I  knew  to  be  an  angel,  "  why  gatherest  thou  thy 
strength  from  the  decaying,  restless  monuments  of  nature 
alone  ?  Hast  thou  no  higher  revelation  of  the  God  of 
nature  ?  Has  he  not  sent  a  messenger  to  dissipate  the 
darkness  of  the  tomb,  and  to  teach  thee  that  it  is  meet 


320  SUBSTANCE   AND    SHADOWS. 

the  corruptible  should  put  on  immortality  by  this  apparent 
death  ?  That  spirit  is  now  surrounded  by  ministering 
angels,  and,  having  been  welcomed  by  its  Saviour  into  un 
known  regions  of  delight,  after  feasting  awhile  amidst 
the  seraphic  joys  of  its  new  existence,  will  have  a  mission 
such  as  glorified  spirits  only  can  perform.  A  life  of 
useful,  beneficial  activity  on  earth,  peculiarly  trained  that 
soul  for  its  celestial  employment  in  heaven.  Thy  friend 
is  still  near  thee ;  heaven  is  no  distant  place."  And  while 
I  listened  and  wondered,  the  spirit  fled,  and  my  gaze  was 
only  fixed  upon  a  little  white  speck  of  cloud,  wherein  the 
vision  entered  and  passed  away  forever.  So  Nature  was 
swallowed  up  in  Revelation,  and  I  went  on  my  way  cheer 
fully,  but  thoughtfully ;  for  I  knew  that  in  a  little  time 
a  greater  company  would  be  gathered,  and  the  tendrils 
which  now  clustered  around  my  heart  would  be  broken, 
and  I,  too,  should  long  to  join  in  the  blessed  society. 

Then  I,  was  glad  the  leaf  had  fallen,  and  I  murmured 
no  longer  that  my  friend  had  departed ;  for  Nature  and 
Revelation  were  but  handmaids  to  each  other,  and  both 
spake  by  the  same  great  teacher,  Death. 


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